


Whatever Makes You Happy

by WilmaKins



Series: Whatever Makes You Happy [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aliens, Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empath, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Slash, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-05 02:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 66,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilmaKins/pseuds/WilmaKins
Summary: Steve and his team never stopped Avenging. So when T'Challa tells them about strange events at the site of an ancient landmark, everything seems quite simple. Of course they'll help Shuri to investigate it - helping people is what they do, after all.Until they discover that a race of alien empaths are harvesting human emotions as a source of power. Specifically, they're using the misery of one Tony Stark.So, until they work out what's really going on, the fate of the world might depend on them keeping Tony happy.Not simple. Not simple at all.Set six months after CA:CW.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic I never thought I'd post. I still wonder if this is a bit ambitious for me, but I've been so encouraged by all the lovely people here that I thought I'd give it a go. If it's awful, please tell me, it's the only way I'll learn!
> 
> Anyone that's taken the time to read this is doing more for me than any of my closest friends would - by which I mean it's unbeta'd, and all mistakes are mine. Sorry.

In some ways, it was good to be back in Wakanda.

 

It was nice for Steve to be able to walk into Shuri’s lab, head held high, and be greeted as a friend. It was nice to be able to walk into anywhere as himself. Not existing is lonely. Never being recognised or acknowledged is lonely, even when you’re going out of your way to hide.

 

And Steve did love Wakanda. He loved the beautiful lines and mechanical artistry, he loved the new ideas all around him, he loved seeing the future framed as something fantastic rather than frightening. If only it didn’t remind him of…

 

Well, so many things. Loss makes even happy memories feel sad. Makes you see them everywhere.

 

But Steve didn’t have time for nostalgia or regret. This wasn’t a social visit. T’Challa had called them because he needed their help, and, even though they didn’t have any of the details yet, Steve knew the stakes must be high.

 

_Please don’t let it be Bucky. Please say Bucky isn’t hurt. Please say Bucky hasn’t hurt anyone._

 

But he shook those thoughts away. Obviously it was someone. Someone was hurt, or in danger, or two hours away from invading Earth. There was some reason T’Challa had called them, and whatever it was, it was unlikely to wait for Steve to get his head together. Whatever he couldn’t deal with had to be filed away. It had to be ignored, the way an athlete has to ignore the pain and run as though it isn’t there.

 

He was used to this. His life had crumbled before, plenty of times, but there had always been a crisis or an invasion or a friend in need to think about instead. There was _never_ time for nostalgia or regret. Maybe that’s why they had all stuck together and carried on Avenging, despite the risks. Maybe they all preferred panicking to self-reflection. He didn’t have time to think about that, either.

 

T’Challa and Shuri had welcomed them warmly, but Steve could feel the tension behind the greetings. No one wanted to waste time on pleasantries.

“So, what are we looking at?” Steve asked. Shuri brought an image into existence with a wave of her hand, like a magic trick, and Steve’s heart clenched. _He’d always loved the holograms._ He ignored it. He ignored the familiar golden glow, and everything it almost made him remember, and focused on what Shuri was actually showing him.  

 

What looked like a triangular metal slab, set into the grassland like a memorial plaque. It was small, and entirely unmarked, and Steve was sure he could have walked right over it without even noticing. And yet.

 

“This site is referenced in the first writings of Wakanda; it is older than any known civilisation. Very little is understood about it, even now.” Shuri began, and then flicked her hand to reveal another image. A photograph of the same site, surrounded by people with scientific equipment. “We’ve been studying it forever, and we’ve managed to record some… activity, originating there, but none of the readings are consistent, or in line with any accepted theory”

“Activity?” Natasha asked.

“We really don’t know what we’re looking at. We’ve never fully understood this.” Shuri admitted. “For a long time, the leading theory was that it was a potential energy source, but around thirty years ago, this study concluded that it was more likely being used to collect, or store, or transmit energy from something or somewhere else – and possibly for someone not on earth.” She left a moment for this to sink in.

 

“Aliens are using this thing to collect energy from earth?” Sam frowned. No matter how long he spent with The Avengers, some things would always sound stupid to him.

“…We really don’t know” Shuri said again. Steve could see her struggling to dumb it down and speed it up enough. “We don’t even fully understand the nature of the energy this thing holds. Or stores. Or maybe something else entirely.”

“But this has been happening for thirty years?” Steve pressed, helping her to the point.

“Probably much longer. But it has never been a cause for concern, before.”

“Before…?”

 

“…Around six months ago, all of the readings we collect from this site began to spike. All of them, by huge amounts. But we don’t really know what it is we’re measuring, what these readings should be, what they’re relative to…” She sighed. This thing, whatever it was, had clearly gotten under her skin. “So, at first, we had no reason to be concerned by that either. Then, we started having power cuts at the edge of the city – Wakanda doesn’t _have_ power cuts” She informed them, seriously.

“And you think they’re related?” Steve frowned, sure T’Challa wouldn’t have called him for a power cut.

“Well, they happened in the parts of the city closest to the site, and the timing coincided with the spikes. And then, as time has gone on, the spikes have become more frequent and more extreme – and so, it seems, have the effects. First, the power cuts started effecting larger areas. Then it was power surges. Fires and explosions, outages at the hospital, all in spite of the most advanced safety measures on earth. The effect elsewhere might be much worse.”

“Elsewhere?” Nat clarified “There are more of these things?”

“We’re beginning to think, maybe, there are.” Shuri waved the hologram away and began to talk to them directly. “The effects we’re seeing are still relatively small scale – power surges and power outages, especially in other places, wouldn’t necessarily be reported or flagged up. But they may still be happening. And if these things are in remote areas, the impact might not be obvious for a while.”

“But you think it might keep getting worse?” Steve guessed.

“It might keep getting worse, yes.” Shuri nodded “It may have a devastating impact on Wakanda, and maybe many other places. And this increase in activity makes us all more concerned about what this thing actually is, what it’s for – _who_ might be using it.”

 

There was a heavy pause while everyone made sense of the problem. Nat deciding what her priorities were, Sam thinking what he could do to assist, Wanda already worrying if she was going to make things worse somehow. Steve still thought like the leader of a team. His first instinct was still to think about what skills were needed and who knew the most.

_He would have asked Tony._

 

Steve took the pain of that realisation the same way he took a punch to the face. He avoided these thoughts as much as he could, but sometimes he just had to brace and move through them. Yes, there was a time when he could have run to Tony Stark with questions about unknown technology and alien worlds – sadder still, there was a time when he would have done it without thinking. There was a time when Tony Stark was his friend, and now he wasn’t. There was a time when Steve didn’t feel quite as naked and vulnerable, when less of the world was beyond his understanding and fewer solutions were out of his reach. That was sad. That was devastating. But they didn’t have time for it.

 

“So how can we help?” Steve asked, instead. He saw T’Challa and Shuri glance at Wanda before they answered.

“We’ve seen spikes in the readings before.” Shuri told them “Nothing like what we’re seeing now, just little blips – but the biggest of those happened around the time Sokovia fell.” Everyone turned to look at Wanda then.

“You think it had something to do with me?” She asked, eyes already wide. T’Challa shook his head, kindly.

“Not directly, no” He assured her “But we are looking into the theory that there is a link between this power, and the power you used and created then.” Everyone knew he was talking about Vision. Indirectly, they were talking about the Mind Stone.

“We have no actual evidence for this” Shuri added, on a downward breath “This whole thing is disturbingly unscientific – but we have nothing else to go on.”

“I know, it is difficult for you to be here. I am grateful to you for coming, and if it’s a waste of time, I apologise wholeheartedly.” T’Challa told them all, graciously “But we were hoping you could at least have a look at it.” He looked directly at Wanda “Tell us if there is anything you can understand of it.”

 

All four of them let out a little breath of relief. It wasn’t an imminent invasion or a global crisis – _it wasn’t Bucky_. T’Challa and Shuri just wanted them to have a look at something. That was fine. That wasn’t exactly a big ask…

 

So why did Steve still feel this tension from them? Why did they both look so burdened by such a reasonable request? Was there something they weren’t telling him, something they didn’t even know, something that didn’t fit with this scene…

 

But there were always a thousand things to think about, no matter how much thinking you did. Steve knew that better than ever, now. No matter how many plans you made, no matter how few people you trusted, no matter how sure you were that you’d covered every angle, there was always a twist at the end. The entire world was built on sand. You might think you’ve got the world figured out, but then _whoosh_ it’s not 1943 anymore. You might think you work for SHIELD, but then _whoosh_ you’d been working for HYDRA, you did it all for nothing. You think you’re there to save your best friend and the whole world and then, _whoosh,_ Tony is lying on the floor of a Siberian bunker and you’ve ruined everything, and that’s what you were there for all along…

 

He might spend all night wondering about the things he didn’t know, and it would never achieve anything – it would just mean that he never helped anyone. And if Steve was going to help anyone, it was T’Challa and Shuri.

 

“Sure, of course” He glanced back at his team, who were all smiling. They didn’t show any concern at the situation. “Lead the way”

 

*

 

Time is supposed to make it better, isn’t it?

 

Time heals all wounds. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. In time this too shall pass. All that bullshit. Tony hadn’t suffered through any of those platitudes since his parents died – no, sorry, since his parents were _murdered_ – but he assumed they hadn’t changed. The accepted wisdom was that, after a while, it would hurt _less._ With enough time, the anger and grief would be _less_.

 

And Tony might have been okay with it not being less, yet. If he’d still been just as hurt and angry after six months, well, at least there would be some hope that he’d feel better eventually.

 

But it was getting worse.

 

Tony was getting more bitter every day. He knew it, and he didn’t like it, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t have any way of making it better. He couldn’t confront any of these demons, he couldn’t fix any of his mistakes – he didn’t even have anyone he could off load it to. He’d sabotaged any hope of a reconciliation with Pepper. The last time she’d tried to help him, Tony had been such an ass that he wasn’t sure they were even friends anymore. And he could hardly bitch to Rhodey about it. Rhodey still couldn’t walk.

 

Tony had just arrived at the new Avengers facility. On any day, being here would have put him in a bad mood. But he’d been in a bad mood anyway. He’d woken up like this, and it had gotten worse as the day wore on. And now he was here. Oh, how he hated it here.

 

Some days were just sad days. Some days were just angry days. And some days… Today, Tony didn’t know what to do with himself, he felt so much. It was just all too much, today.

 

He wasn’t even thinking about anything specific. There had been no poignant reminder, no ridiculous demand from Ross, nothing to set him off this morning more than any other. Today he was just irritated. Restless. Sad, and… maybe ashamed, he wasn’t sure. Something hot and salty and uncomfortable, simmering under his skin. He’d had a headache for hours now.

 

He really did not have time for this. He never had time for this. Tony Stark was now personally responsible for what was left of ‘The Avengers’, he was on every conceivable defence committee, involved in every organisation, government and public body on _fucking_ earth – he was busy. He just had too much to do to worry about why he was doing it, or how long he could do it for. What would happen when he just couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t have room for this misery right now.

 

He’d almost made it all the way across the lobby when he heard a shout. A wordless exclamation, the angry pain of someone hitting their thumb with a hammer. It stopped Tony in his tracks. He sighed, _oh, what now?_ But then it happened again. This time it was more pain than anger, and this time Tony recognised the voice.

 

“Vision?” He called, already running up the stairs. He knew the sound had come from up here, somewhere nearby, “Vis, you okay?” But Vision didn’t answer. Tony’s heart beat harder as he power walked up the main corridor, checking room by room for anything out of place. He was just about to raise the alarm when he rounded the corner, and saw Vision slumped against the wall.

 

“Woah, Vis, buddy, you’re okay.” Tony reassured on autopilot, rushing over to him. Visions face was creased in pain, and he had one hand placed gingerly to his forehead. “Okay, Vis, breathe… do you breathe? If you even breathe, do that.” He babbled, thinking about who to call for help. No, wait, it was him again, wasn’t it? Shit. Everything was him. Why wasn’t Bruce here?

 

But, thankfully, Vision did appear to be recovering. His face relaxed just a little, and he dropped his hand. Tony held his breath, waiting to see if Vision would scream again. But after a second or two Vision seemed to collect himself; he straightened up, and opened his eyes-

 

And _looked_ at Tony.

 

Tony felt it, immediately, at the bottom of his gut. It was the most human expression he’d ever seen on Vision, and the most intense stare he’d ever seen on anyone. Tony was suddenly uncomfortable, like he was being watched by a million people. Or one lion.  

 

“You with me, Vis?” He asked, awkwardly. It was like Vision hadn’t heard him.

“ _I didn’t know_ ” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with feeling, his eyes still locked on Tony. “Tony, I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry for what?” Tony asked, cautiously. “Vision? What’s going on?” And Vision’s eyes softened, and for a brief second Tony thought he might actually be about to cry… did Vision even cry?

 

And then, mercifully, Vision looked away. He gave a little shake of his head. When he looked back at Tony it was… normal. Well, it was Vision.

“I’m sorry, that was unexpected” He spoke in his regular voice. Tony’s shoulders slumped in relief. Whatever else was going on, he was pleased the staring part of it was over with.

“Yeah, that was pretty freaky” Tony agreed “What was that?”

“I’m not sure” Vision admitted.

“You yelled” Tony reminded him “Before, you shouted like you were hurt, do you remember?” And Visions hand went to the Mind Stone again.

“Yes, there was an intense pain… and then there was something else”

 

Tony nodded, his mind already racing. Whatever thousand things he was here to do, they would have to wait. He was already planning all the different tests he would need to run, when Vision spoke again.

“I need to see Wanda.”

 

That stopped Tony’s brain dead. Wanda? _Oh, God, no._

“You need to see Wanda.” Tony repeated in a level tone, trying to think of just how many reasons that would be a nightmare.

“I know it’s not a small request.” Vision told him, stoic as ever. “I don’t make it lightly.”

“Why do you need to see Wanda?” Tony asked, his frustration flaring up again. _Is it just because there was literally nothing else that could have made today worse?_

“…I’m not sure.”

 

Tony huffed, softly. What, was Vision daring him to say no? Wanda… and the others… were wanted by every legal agency on earth. Tony was currently working for, or under the constant scrutiny of, literally everyone. Tony had three days’ worth of vital work to get through before tomorrow, and he hadn’t seen an actual bed for a week. And, by the by, the only way Tony could contact Wanda was by calling the man that had broken his heart. If that mattered to anyone.

 

He looked at Vision again. He remembered the strange way Vision had looked at him.

 

“But you’re sure you need to see Wanda?” He sighed. Vision nodded, solemnly.

“Whatever… _that,_ was, I’m sure it’s connected to her. And I don’t think we can afford to ignore it.”

 

Tony’s headache, temporarily forgotten in the panic, throbbed back into existence. He could feel the flip phone in his pocket, like it was giving off heat. He sighed again. God, he was exhausted.

 

“Give me until tonight, okay?”

 

*

 

It was a half hour drive to the edge of the city. Steve had spent it wondering whether the tension was all in his head. On paper everyone had talked comfortably, no one had said anything alarming, there had been no sneaky glances or pregnant pauses or any other red flags. No reason that Steve should be getting more anxious the closer they got.

 

Then, just after they all got out of the jeep, he caught Shuri looking at him.

“You think there’s something else we should know?” He guessed. She frowned, and she shrugged.

“I don’t know how to explain it…” She looked at T’Challa, who seemed equally lost. “You might see when we get there. Or there might be nothing to see, I don’t know.”

 

But when they got within sight of it, it was clear that there was something. And, suddenly, Steve understood why neither Shuri or T’Challa had tried to explain it before. He looked at the others, and he knew they felt it too – they all had the same helpless confusion in their eyes.

 

This thing _felt_ of something. It felt powerful, or significant, or… something. It wasn’t a physical feeling… or was it? Was there a resistance on the skin, or was that just nerves? Was it cooler in the air around it, or was that just a chill? Was this an emotional feeling, a trick of the mind? There were no words for this feeling, no way to explain. But Steve knew they all felt it. He looked at Shuri, and nodded. She sighed.

“It wasn’t always like… this” She told him. “I’ve been here before, a few years ago. It wasn’t like this.” Then she looked at Wanda. “So, what do you think?”

 

Wanda considered the slab for a moment. Then she took a breath and stepped closer to it. At the last moment she glanced up at Shuri, like a child looking for reassurance.

“Can I touch it?” She asked, carefully. Shuri nodded, gestured to it, _go ahead._ So Wanda knelt, hesitated, and then placed a nervous hand on it.

 

She inhaled sharply. Everyone else froze at the sound, like animals hearing a twig snap.

“You okay Wanda?” Sam asked nervously. But Wanda didn’t acknowledge him. She leant closer and pressed her palm more firmly to it, even though it was clearly distressing her. Her next breath was heavy and shuddering, full of tears. Her eyes were suddenly wide and wet, and then her lip began to tremble.

“Wanda?” Natasha stepped closer, and went to put her hand on Wanda’s shoulder. Wanda snapped away from the slab before she could.

 

Natasha backed off, throwing Steve a worried look while Wanda struggled to catch her breath.

“He’s just so sad” Wanda whispered, as a single tear slid down her cheek “He’s always been so sad, so lost and alone and trying so hard, when he was so small… it’s just so…”

“Who is?” Shuri asked softly, kneeling down to look Wanda in the eye. Wanda looked up at her suddenly, like she was shocked to find her there. And, just like that, the tears were gone, the misery replaced by confusion.

“Who is?” Wanda repeated, still processing her surroundings.

“…You said ‘he is so sad’” Shuri reminded her. “Who is?” Wanda blinked at her, and they saw her look for the memory like someone trying to hold on to a dream. Then she looked back at the slab.

 

“That thing can feel” She said, eventually. “Or…or the thing it’s connected to, feels. It’s not just an energy source. It’s…human. It’s alive.”

“Alive?” Shuri raised her eyebrows. “This?” She gestured to the slab, but Wanda was already shaking her head.

“No… no, something is alive…” But she knew how little help that was. Shuri looked at T’challa. Nat and Sam looked at Steve.

 

“T’Challa, can we stay with you?” Steve asked, professionally.

“You are always welcome here, Captain.” T’Challa, ever courteous, even when he was obviously rattled.

“Then let’s take this home” Steve suggested, because he didn’t have anything more helpful yet “Give Wanda a minute with this, then see where we are.”

 

“Vision.” Wanda said suddenly. Confidently. There was a pulse, a palpable beat of tension within the group.

“Vision?” Nat clarified.

“…He’d feel it too.” Wanda didn’t sound quite as sure now. Everyone looked at Steve.

 

_Vision is with Tony._

 

“…let’s take this home.” Steve asserted. “We can talk about it there.”

 

*

 

Tony told himself that he was leaving the call until tonight because he had too much to do before then.

 

Like he was getting anything else done today.

 

He’d already wasted an hour pacing around his new office – his loathed new office – thinking of all the reasons this was awful. Which wasn’t helpful, obviously, but he couldn’t stop himself.

_He was really going to call Steve_.

 

Tony had spent so long thinking about this hypothetically… it couldn’t possibly be real. He could not convince himself that, no, he _really_ had to call Steve this time. He was actually going to hear his voice…

 

His guts clenched, treacherously. Oh, this was… terrible, right? No, this was awful. This was going to be awful. He couldn’t begin to guess what Steve would say, but he knew it would be awful, it could only make everything worse…

 

It was a bit exciting though, wasn’t it? Just a bit?

 

Gah. Yes, let’s get excited first. That should make the inevitably awful conversation so much more devastating when it happened.

 

What was he supposed to say? He didn’t even know what had happened to Vision – _Vision_ didn’t know what had happened to Vision. The whole thing sounded ridiculous, however many ways he thought of explaining it…

 

And how was he going to get to that?

 

Did he say ‘Hi’? Did he keep things light, keep things at a distance? Or should he sound every bit as angry as he was – should he just tell Steve that Vision needed Wanda, and hope his tone of voice added the ‘fuck you’? If Steve tried to talk about what had happened, should Tony stop him? Or should he take the opportunity to get a few things off his chest-

 

Oh, who was he kidding? Steve wasn’t going to talk about what happened. Tony would never get the chance to say any of it. He would spend all evening planning for conversations that would never happen – unless he didn’t, in which case those conversations were sure to come up…

 

But he’d never actually managed to plan a conversation with Steve. He’d tried, oh God how he’d tried - he’d wasted so many hours of precious sleeping time, just _trying_ to think of what he wanted to say to Steve. Tony still felt that if he could just get it all straight in his own head it would help. Even though he’d never get to say it to Steve, even though it wouldn’t matter if he did, if he could just work out what he _would_ have said… maybe it would have stopped everything from churning in his head. Relentlessly. Increasingly. Maybe if he could have just laid it all out, it wouldn’t sound like such a noise…

 

Maybe, but it was apparently beyond him. There was just so much. He tried starting at the beginning, he tried taking each point in turn, but the other arguments would start crowding in and he’d remember other examples and those examples would lead to other points… and then it was four in the morning and Tony was left with a dizzy exhaustion and a lot of angry words. If that was as far as he’d come in six months, it was unlikely he’d come up with anything better before tonight.

 

_What if he asks about Rhodey? What if he asks about me? He’s not going to ask about me, he doesn’t care. But what if he does? What if he mentions the Accords? What if he mentions Bucky?_

Well, then that’ll be shit, won’t it? Like everything else is shit.

 

He reached this point quite often. The bit where he’d worn himself out, when his brain felt tender and frayed though over use and his anger had burned out into sadness. These were the times he would feel hollow, and dirty, and hopeless, the times he would tell himself he had to move on. He’d thought the words so many times, _you’ve lost him, it’s over, it’ll never be better, it can’t be fixed, there’s no point anymore._ Sometimes, when he was numb like this, he just lacked the energy to challenge those words. It wasn’t the same as believing them; it was being too tired to argue with them. And that was fine, until his anger was charged again, until his brain woke up and went right back to work.

 

That would have been fine, for now, if he didn’t _actually have to call Steve tonight._

 

He sighed. Maybe exhausted and hopeless was best. Maybe, this way, he could just do it, sleepwalk though it the way he did so much of his life. He’d feel it eventually. But it was probably best not to feel it at the time.

 

He looked at the few scribbled notes he’d made before he disappeared fully into his own head. A few questions about Vision, a few notes about what happened – the word ‘Neuron?’ underlined twice. What the fuck had that been about? Well, if there was one thing Tony knew how to do, it was work. Somehow the work always got done, no matter what shape the rest of his life was in.

 

He would work out what he was calling Steve for, and then he would call him.

 

That was it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Wanda had been quiet since they left the site.

 

She didn’t seem tearful or traumatised any more, but she was obviously lost in her own thoughts. The drive back to the palace had been tense. The others made shallow small talk around her, like friends trying to have a conversation with a stranger in the room. Wanda barely noticed. She just stared into the middle distance, answering direct questions only, never making eye contact.

 

They’d all assumed they were heading back to the lab, but Shuri suggested a longer recess. The sun was already setting. It wasn’t as though they had any information that could be analysed with lab equipment, and everyone looked like they needed a rest. They could form a plan in the morning. No one was inclined to argue – it had been a long time since any of them had a good night’s sleep.

 

But, tired though he was, Steve knew he had to talk to Wanda. Even if it was just to make sure she was okay. That’s what Captain America would do. So, after a respectful delay, he went up to her room.

 

The door was open, which was just as well, because Steve didn’t think she’d have heard him if he’d knocked. She was sitting on the floor, back pressed to the wall, arms wrapped around her knees. She was staring somewhere beyond the far wall, her expression haunted and vacant. Steve knocked anyway. She didn’t look up.

 

“Wanda?” He spoke softly, taking a cautious step into the room. She raised her head, but she didn’t look directly at him. “Are you okay?” He stepped closer, watching her face as he moved.  He stopped a good few feet away and waited.

 

“I just…” She started, her voice full of air. “I don’t know if it was that…thing. I don’t know what that was. But suddenly, I just feel like…” And then she looked Steve right in the eye. “What if we all made a terrible mistake?”

 

Steve was still thinking like the leader of a team. Steve Rogers was always on duty. Steve started to think about what mistake Wanda might mean, how it might be connected to what happened today, how he should react-

 

And then his phone rang.

 

It felt like an electric shock. Steve jolted to attention, his conversation with Wanda temporarily forgotten.

 

_The phone is ringing. The phone is ringing. No, really. Right now. _

He glanced up at Wanda, he saw her eyes widen. She seemed to appreciate the significance, even though Steve had never mentioned the phone to anyone-

 

_The phone was ringing._

 

_Answer it, then._

 

And then he was fishing it out of his pocket, and then he’d flipped it open, and then he’d accepted the call. He was on the phone to Tony Stark.

 

He heard Tony breathe on the other end.

“Tony?” So, that’s what he was going to say. Who knew.

 

And then, suddenly, Wanda hissed sharply, like she’d been burned. Steve jerked his head to look at her, the phone still heavy against his skin. There was an instinctive kick in his head, a realisation that things were going wrong.

 

Something was happening to Wanda.

 

Tony was on the phone, right now.

 

Which one would Captain America think about first?

 

“Vision needs to see Wanda” Tony’s voice was cold and solid, but still, so him. Steve felt his stomach flip, and then a swell of nausea.

 

 _Tony_.

 

And then he heard the words Tony had just said. Wanda. Vision.

 

Captain America took over. So, these weren’t conflicting priorities. The call and the crisis in Wakanda were all the same thing, and Steve had to deal with it. Now. There was no time to think about anything else.

 

“Vision needs to see Wanda?” Steve confirmed, looking at Wanda as he said it.

“Tony?” Wanda asked. Steve heard Tony’s breath catch, and he knew Tony had heard her.

“So he says. I don’t know why.” Tony answered stiffly. “She’s there, then?”

 

Somewhere under the blanket of fatigue Tony felt his heart sink. He’d pictured this conversation a million times, he’d imagined Steve saying his name in a thousand different voices – but a three-way with Wanda had never occurred to him. He’d not thought about having this moment snatched away from him by someone Steve cared about more. He should have, shouldn’t he? This was just so typical.

 

And, he supposed, this was a good thing. It probably better for Tony to just hand Vision the phone. Vis and Wanda could talk to each other directly, and the epic drama that was ‘Calling Steve Rogers’ could be reduced to an answering service. That was probably best. Simpler.

 

But he already knew, when the numbness wore off, this was going to _hurt._

 

“Yeah, she’s…” Steve spoke at last. She was falling apart again, right in front of him. She’d started crying as soon as she’d said Tony’s name, and now her body was beginning to tremble with the force of it. She gripped her knees tighter, trying to curl further into herself. But she didn’t look hurt. She just looked so unhappy. “…She’s in trouble.”

 

Tony huffed softly. He knew he had all sorts of spiteful things to say to _that_. But he didn’t have the heart to go that route right now, and anyway, there was work to do.

 

“If you tell me where to send him, Vision can come and meet her.” Tony spoke like a doctor explaining a procedure. A tone that acknowledged the awfulness of this but still established a distance from it.

 

And Steve realised – he couldn’t answer him.

 

Steve had thought about this conversation a thousand times, too. He hadn’t meant to. He’d told himself that he couldn’t dwell on the past, that he couldn’t afford to let his guard down, that he simply didn’t have the time to daydream like that. But sometimes, when he was supposed to be sleeping, or sitting in the back of the jet, he’d slip. He’d found himself thinking of Tony so many times, not knowing how he got there. And, yeah, he’d thought about this conversation. He’d thought about how it might go, how he would have liked it to go, how badly it could possibly have gone…

 

But he never thought he’d be having it in Wakanda.

 

He’d never considered all the real-world problems that could complicate this. He always thought that if Tony asked where he was, he’d just tell him. He’d always known that, if it really came down to it, he could trust Tony. This should have been his chance to prove it. He’d never expected there to be a reason that he couldn’t.

 

But he couldn’t tell Tony Stark about Wakanda. He couldn’t take that on himself, having given T’Challa his word. He couldn’t risk Tony coming here.

 

 _Bucky is here_.

 

This was the moment. This was when they found out just how broken they really were – or it should have been. But Steve knew Tony was expecting Steve to answer him. He knew Tony assumed that the basic foundations were still there. And they _were_. Steve would have answered him, he _wanted_ to answer him – but he was going to say no anyway. He was going to tell Tony he couldn’t trust him, he had to, and Tony would think…

 

 And, to make matters worse, Wanda seemed to be hyperventilating now.  

 

“I’m so sorry Tony, there’s a problem… I promise, I’ll call you right back” And he snapped the phone shut.

 

_What have you just done, you total idiot?_

 

But Steve couldn’t let himself get dragged under by the absolute mess he’d made of that. Not when Wanda was struggling to breathe. He had to deal with this first.

 

“Wanda-” He spoke as he was kneeling down, but she cut him off with an agonised, animal sound. Something like a howl, like a moan of pure grief. Steve stopped mid crouch.

“Call him back!” She sobbed. “Call him back, now!”

“Wanda, I’m going to call him back, it’s okay” He soothed, finishing his decent to the floor “I promise, I’ll call him back as soon as you’re okay. Breathe, Wanda” But she was shaking her head, violently.

“No, you have to call him back _now_ , you have to tell him where we are, you have to get him here.”

“Wanda, it’s okay, Tony said Vision is going to-”

“Not Vision, Tony, you have to call Tony and bring him here” She stammered between deep, shuddering breaths. “You have to call him back!”

“Okay, Wanda, calm down. You aren’t making any sense.” Because she wasn’t. She was hysterical. So Steve put his hands on her shoulders and held her, made her look at him, stopped her from speaking again until she stilled. And then her eyes suddenly got dark and heavy, and Steve realised she was falling asleep right there in his arms. “Wanda, Wanda, stay awake for me okay? We need to work out what’s going on…” He could see her trying, but he knew she wouldn’t manage it for long.

 

Okay, first things first. Get Wanda to Shuri, that had to be the best place.

 

“Can you stand up for me?” He asked. Wanda nodded, but Steve basically ended up pulling her to her feet. It was fine.

 

He could carry her if he had to.

 

*

 

Tony just stared at the phone for a moment, and waited to feel it.

 

He wondered if this was still the exhaustion, or if this was shock. He could still hear Steve’s voice, hanging there in his memory… like it had been for months. Was it real?

 

_“Tony?”_

_“Vision needs to see Wanda”_

_“Vision needs to see Wanda?”_

_“So he says. I don’t know why. She’s there, then?”_

_“Yeah, she’s… She’s in trouble.”_

_“If you tell me where to send him, Vision can come and meet her.”_

_“I’m so sorry Tony, there’s a problem… I promise, I’ll call you right back”_

Had that really been it? Seven lines? That had been… cold. And empty, and over too fast. He wondered what Steve had meant by a problem. He wondered if Steve was going to say where he was, before he had to hang up…

 

Ah, here it is. A hot wave of naked sadness. The sort of disappointment small children feel, that only small children aren’t ashamed to acknowledge. Tony was embarrassed, even alone here in his office. He’d _wanted._ He’d _hoped._ He’d _thought_ … well, he wasn’t sure what he’d thought, what he’d really expected to happen. But he’d at least thought Steve would tell him where to send help. He hadn’t expected Steve to hang up on him…

 

He was still expecting Steve to call him right back. He was still looking at that fucking phone, like a puppy staring at the door his master had walked out of… _hm, interesting choice of words_. God, he hated himself. He hated Steve.

 

He didn’t want to hate Steve. That thought was sadder than anything.

 

If Steve could just…

 

But this was the problem with staking all of your happiness on Steve. At least for Tony, who was further down the pecking order than Wanda fucking Maximoff now. This was the problem Tony would always have. It just wasn’t within his power to fix this. He couldn’t stop himself wanting, and he knew he could never have, and…

 

And Steve wasn’t going to call him _right_ back, apparently.

 

Tony looked at the phone for a few long minutes. His stores of bitterness and belligerence were building again.

 

_So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us - if you need me - I'll be there_

 

Yeah, fucking right.

 

Tony hadn’t even called Steve for help. This was one of very few things Tony wasn’t specifically responsible for – it wasn’t his problem if Vision wanted to talk to Wanda for some non-reason, or if Wanda was in trouble. He’d been going out of his way by calling Steve in the first place. And Steve had put him off to talk to someone else, hung up on him, and then left him hanging here when he had _quite_ enough else to do-

 

Tony wanted a drink.

 

Tony didn’t drink much these days, but only because he didn’t have the chance. He spent a lot of his time _thinking_ about getting drunk, longing for the next night off so that he could hide himself away and drink until he didn’t feel any more. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but as long as he only had two nights off a month it didn’t seem to matter.

 

But, screw it, he was off now, whether he wanted to be or not. He was, once again, working according to Steve Rogers agenda. So he was going to have a drink.

 

Of course he kept a bottle of Scotch in _this_ office, and yes, it was already half empty. He might not get to drink often, but when he did he did it properly. He poured himself a generous measure and took a deliberately large gulp. He liked the way it burned, the fact that it made his eyes water – the way it went to his head, if he downed it quickly enough. The first one was always the best. The warm soak of relief, from the guts outwards. Like he’d loosened half a notch out of hundreds.

 

_“I’m so sorry Tony, there’s a problem…”_

 

Out of nowhere, Tony wondered if Steve was in trouble. If he’d been ambushed, or arrested, if Wanda had just turned savage or exploded or something… There was a churning of genuine worry. He looked at the phone again.

 

And then he remembered being very little, back when he was still naïve enough to worry if his father wasn’t home on time. When he used to ask his mother to call his fathers’ friends, his office, the local hospital, just to check. Maybe Dad hadn’t kept his promise because he was hurt or in trouble… And Tony’s mother would always give him that melancholy look. Because he was never in a hospital, or an emergency meeting, and his mother hadn’t known how to explain her resignation to a child so young. When is the right time to tell your child that his father is a bastard? But Tony had worked it out quickly enough. There was no point calling anyone. You just made a fool of yourself when you did that.

 

Steve didn’t need a grand reason for not calling Tony back right away. Steve wouldn’t have given a thought to whether Tony was hanging on here, waiting. And, even if Steve was in trouble, he’d made it quite clear that was nothing to do with Tony.

 

So fuck him.

 

He poured another drink, and he knew he’d pour another after that. The longer Steve left this, the more drunk Tony would be –

 

So Steve was going to end up with the conversation he deserved.

 

*

 

Steve should have just turned back sooner.

 

Wanda had even started to rally. Long before they made it to the lab, she’d started straightening up and walking under her own strength. The emotional turmoil of earlier had obviously left her – if she looked unsettled now, it was probably no more than Steve did. The imminent medical emergency he’d feared hadn’t come to pass.

 

And Steve had thought about changing priorities. He _had_ been thinking of Tony, waiting by the phone. He could have told Wanda to go on without him. He could have stopped and called Tony back, there and then – he thought about it. But they’d been so close, and Steve was only going to walk her the rest of the way...

 

They’d both known from the other side of the of the lab door. They could just tell; it was chaos in there.

 

Sure enough, Shuri’s lab was a flurry of activity. There were only six people besides her, but they were all moving so frantically that there seemed to be more of them. They were speaking in Xhosa, but it was impossible to miss the urgency in their voices. All of the screens around them were bright with incoming information. Steve saw footage of fires and darkened streets.

 

Shuri caught Steve’s eye as they approached.

“What happened?”

“Massive power surge. Huge.” She answered perfunctorily, her eyes flitting between Steve and the computer on her desk “Half the city is without power, even our generators… the server block at the edge of the city should be totally impact proof…” Steve couldn’t tell if she was talking to him or to herself.

“Can we help?” He asked automatically – he just couldn’t stop himself. Shuri shook her head, more like a surrender than a refusal.

“None of this makes sense…” She told him, still looking at the screen. And then she looked up at him “What brings you to my lab, Captain?”

 

“You need to bring Tony Stark here.” Wanda answered for him. Shuri raised her eyebrows, sceptically.

“Tony Stark, the American Industrialist?” She replied, pointedly. “Why?”

“…I don’t know exactly” Wanda confessed. “When I touched it, I knew. And now, it’s like trying to remember a dream. But I was so sure that Tony needed to be here, I remember it, and I’m sure it’s right. Whatever this is” She gestured to the commotion all around them “It’s connected. You’re not going to fix this without him, I’m sure.” Shuri considered Steve and Wanda carefully, and exhaled slowly.

“Do _you_ trust him?” She asked Steve “If you bring him here, can you be sure that he’ll respect our wishes the way you have?”

 

Oh, that was a difficult question.

 

Not the first part. He could answer the first part, easily. Of course he trusted Tony. But if she was going to get specific about it, if Steve had to say for sure what Tony would do if he came here… This was the man that invented Ultron, after all. And even though Steve knew Tony had learned lessons from that, Tony was still the same person. The futurist. Steve could just imagine how Tony would react to Wakanda… Steve would have enjoyed imagining that… but he didn’t have time. The important question was, would Tony be able to walk away from Wakanda?

 

Would he?

 

But, thankfully, Wanda leapt in and rescued him from having to answer. Steve really didn’t know what he would have said if she hadn’t.

“I don’t think it matters”

“You don’t think it matters?” Shuri sounded more confused than offended.

“I think, if you don’t bring Tony here, there may not _be_ a Wakanda. There may not be an anywhere” Wanda answered gravely. Shuri looked over to the footage again, to the baffled people being directed through the dark streets.

 

“You’ll have to ask my brother.” She told them, eventually. Steve just nodded. He knew he couldn’t argue with that.

 

There was no point getting upset about it. He would just have to wait.

 

*

 

Tony had almost finished the scotch.

 

He could, quite easily, have made it half way through the second bottle he had stashed around here somewhere. He’d had over an hour to kill. But drinking is a game of diminishing returns. It get’s less fun from the very first one. And, even though he’s told himself he didn’t care, there was still the pressure of that damn phone. He couldn’t really let go right now, much as he’d like to.

 

By the time Steve eventually called back, everything was dulled. A low ache, a distant bitterness, a weary anger. He felt belligerent and tetchy. Simmering, rather than boiling over. Then, when the phone did ring, he was possessed of an instant desire to smash it into a thousand pieces. But he wasn’t _that_ drunk. So he answered it.

 

“Yes?”

 

Steve physically shivered. Tony’s voice was dead, so cold and hostile that Steve’s whole body froze. He lost all the words.

“If you tell me where, I’ll arrange for Vision to meet you.” Tony informed him again, when he’d lost patience with the delay.

 

Steve took a breath. His internal monologed took on the tone of a CO. He had an objective to achieve, and that would mean ignoring his own emotions and managing Tony’s. It was just what had to be done.

 

“It turns out there’s more to it than that” Steve told him, “We need you to come, too.”

“Me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back before now, but things turned really bad, really quickly.”

“Where are you?” Still, there was absolutely no feeling in it.

“Before I tell you, I have to explain it.” He heard Tony huff out a sarcastic little laugh, and he knew he was losing him. And, for now, he had to focus on not losing him. He had to get him here. That was all. “We’re only here by special invitation. This place is… special, it’s hidden from the rest of the world. They’ve built their whole society on keeping it that way, and we’ve given our word that we’ll respect that. Before I can tell you where we are, I need you to promise me you can do it on their terms.”

 

Tony felt the humming in his head swell into a roar. A familiar din of general outrage. His skin began to tingle. That he sounded calm when he answered was simply a fluke. He was beyond controlling his tone of voice by now.

 

“That’ll have to be a hard pass then, I’m afraid.” He could swear he heard Steve’s mouth fall open.

“…Sorry?”

“I said, _no_.”

 

Steve felt his chest seize up, like the floor had given way beneath him. No? Just…just no? _But you’re Tony…_ It was like a knife to the chest. But Steve had kept fighting after a knife to the chest before, when he had to. He could fight through this, because he had to. He couldn’t be hurt right now. He had to think like a hostage negotiator.

 

“Please, just let me tell you what’s happening-”

“I don’t actually care what’s happening” Tony cut in, his voice blunt and final. “And I don’t have to care. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe anyone anything. Not that you asked, but I have enough shit to deal with. You have no idea what a ballache it would be to help you, and then you have the nerve to give me rules? Me giving up my time, risking my life, not enough? Tell you what, call one of the other six billion people on earth, one of the people who isn’t singlehandedly managing global defence, someone who hasn’t already flown into a black hole. I’ve done my bit, it’s someone else’s turn.” Some of the anger began to bleed through at the end. He’d started talking more quickly, breathing more heavily, sitting further forward in his chair. “You want Vision to meet Wanda, I’ll pass on the message. You want more, ask someone else.” And, with that, he snapped the phone shut.

 

The room hummed around him. His heart beat in his ears.

 

Fuck it, where was the other bottle…

 

*

 

Tony was hung over before he was even fully awake.

 

He didn’t worry too much that he didn’t know where he was. He tended not to know where he was when he woke up, hungover or not. Nowhere was home anymore, there was nowhere he should ‘expect’ to be. And it didn’t take him long to recognise the couch in his office. He’d passed out here plenty of times; he recognised the smell of the factory fresh fabric-

 

His stomach turned.

 

He opened his eyes gingerly, knowing it would hurt. Thankfully it was still early, and the sky was barely light. Still, it hurt. When he sat up he literally felt the contents of his guts slosh. The world swayed around him, watery and shimmery and unreal. He felt like his head was full of glue. The creeping shame didn’t bother him either, at first. This was familiar too. Just knowing he’d been drunk was enough to make him feel uncomfortable in his own skin, anxious and unclean.

 

And then he saw the phone lying on the floor beside him.

 

_Oh, God no._

 

Oh God, he’d spoken to Steve. The memories all came back to him in a rush, a tangle of words and pictures and _feelings_.

 

_Steve said there was a problem-_

_I said no-_

_Steve is in trouble-_

_Shit, what have I done-_

_Where did Steve say he was?_

_He didn’t say what-_

_I didn’t let him say-_

_Oh, God, I said-_

Tony snatched the phone up and flipped it open. He almost dialled Steve’s number, before he saw the little envelope in the corner of the tiny screen. A text.

 

_We are in Wakanda. Please come._

Tony read it in Steve’s voice. _Please come._

 

He only just managed to grab the trashcan before he was horribly, violently sick.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that continues to read this, and for all of your comments! Yeah, proving to be a bit of a slow burn. Sorry. I knew this idea would be involved :-/

Tony threw up until he reached stomach acid, until his insides ached with the effort of trying to expel what wasn’t there. It didn’t seem possible that it would ever stop, but eventually his body showed him some mercy. He sat, trembling, for five long minutes, waiting for an ambush. His teeth were coated in a sour film and could feel that his skin was waxy. At last, he braved standing up.

 

A hangover is just dehydration. That’s science.

 

If Tony drank enough water – if he could keep it down – eventually, his head would stop pounding. It seemed impossible that he would ever feel human again, he couldn’t believe he’d _ever_ be able to lie down without holding on, but he knew it had to stop at some point. Science didn’t lie.

 

Right. Think about this scientifically. Think about what you know.

 

_Steve called you. Steve called you and-_

 

No. Logically, that point came later. He had to be fit to consider it first.

 

_You need water._

Yes, that was far more helpful. That wasn’t quite beyond him.

 

And it absolutely would have been better if Tony could have done things in a logical order. If he could have stopped himself thinking about it until after he’d sipped sufficient fluids, maybe had a shower, at least brushed his teeth… It would have been much better if he could have waited until after The Fear had passed. If he could just stop thinking, _feeling_ , for one damn minute.

 

But even as he stood swaying at the sink, taking timid mouthfuls of tap water, Tony’s mind was trying to run in a thousand different directions. He felt like his brain was being drawn and quartered. And, obviously, he had that deep sense of foreboding and unarticulated shame that came with every hangover… except, this time, the shadow seemed to be getting closer. Darker. This time, he might really have done something terrible…

 

He never drank as much as he had last night. He never drank the _way_ he had last night. After that second call, Tony had started pouring drinks before the last one had hit his stomach, draining his glass purposefully – spitefully. He kept drinking even though it wasn’t fun, long after he knew he should have stopped, almost as if to prove he didn’t _have_ to stop, like an act of self harm.

 

Well, he was hurting now.

 

And he couldn’t help feeling like he’d crossed a line, like his life had taken another, irreversible step toward rock bottom-

 

And then he told himself to get a grip. He took a long, cool breath, and filled his glass again. He started talking himself down.

 _Calm down Stark. You didn’t go on a rampage – you just got too drunk. You’re a single man, in your own office, and you had too much to drink in your own time. And it was after you talked to Steve, so no one even knows. You won’t be doing that_ _again. Next_.

 

Right. What did Steve actually say?

 

He hadn’t been that drunk when he spoke to Steve; he remembered that bit perfectly well. And, thinking back, Steve hadn’t really said anything. Hardly a surprise, that Steve hadn’t really told him anything… but Tony had told Steve a few things. Remembering it, he was caught out by a smile.

 

It was petty. Bitter and small, and he knew it. But, thinking of the shock in Steve’s voice, remembering the _“…Sorry?”_ , there was a joyously vindictive feeling of victory. Steve had never doubted that Tony would drop everything and run to him, he’d just assumed that Tony would accept whatever terms he was given – well, didn’t this serve him right? Tony quite liked the idea of the wind being taken out of Steve’s sails, of him being forced to fold and ask, _please come._ Tony was suddenly pleased he hadn’t called Steve in a panic this morning. He was quite enjoying the idea of never calling him back, of Steve finally realising…

 

_You could have saved us… Why didn’t you do more?_

 

Tony heard it in Steve’s voice. He always heard it in Steve’s voice. Not that Steve had any right to say that to him, not anymore – but then, Steve had never said it in the first place. That was Tony’s demon.

 

_You didn’t let Steve tell you what was wrong-_

_What if the world is about to end-_

_What if it really is only you-_

_Would he have called you, if there was anyone_ _else?_

_What if it’s too late-_

_What if he’s dead-_

_What if-_

His phone rang.

 

Not _that_ phone, thank fuck. The _other_ phone that brought nothing but bad news – his work phone, now, since no one ever called him socially. Jesus Christ, it was, what, five am… he couldn’t deal with this now. There was still a bucket of vomit in his office.

 

And then his brain started making sloppy connections. A call from Ross at this hour. An emergency. What had Steve said?

 

“Hello” He croaked reluctantly. Oh, speaking was painful.

“Stark?” Ross clarified, irritably.

“Obviously” Tony frowned “What’s happened?”

 

Ross started barking at him about power companies and SHIELD facilities and electronic readouts… at first, it meant literally nothing. It was just a noise he was scanning for keywords, for body counts or battle locations or the word ‘wormhole’. It took him a minute to even wonder what Ross was ranting on about.

 

“Stop” Tony told him bluntly. “Are you calling me as Iron Man, or as your defence consultant?”

“I am calling _you_ as the leading authority on energy research” Ross told him, as though it should have been obvious.

“You’re thinking of Stark Industries, I don’t run that anymore” Tony informed him, his mind racing on ahead “You’ve called me at five in the morning because of, sorry, some strange energy readings and some power cuts?”

“I don’t think you’re grasping the significance of this, Stark” Ross huffed at him “These are not just strange readings, these are potentially _alien_ readings.” Ah, that was a keyword “And these are not just power cuts – the facility in Kenya, especially, was under top level security measures, there are serious ramifications to the breach…” But Tony had started zoning him out again. He was thinking about where Kenya was in relation to Wakanda…

 

“Okay, Ross, give me fifteen minutes, I need to call you back.” Tony didn’t give him chance to answer – he wasn’t sure if Ross had still been talking when he hung up.

 

Deal with the bucket of vomit. Shower. Finish the plan he was already forming. Talk to Vision. Call Ross back. Call Steve.

 

In that order.

 

*

 

Steve had watched Bucky fall to his death from a speeding train – but he couldn’t fall apart over it, because he still had to get Zola.

 

Steve had learned that his whole life was a lie, that SHIELD was HYDRA and Howard was murdered, all in the same minute, just before being bombed – but he couldn’t fall apart over it, because billions of people were about to be slaughtered.

 

Steve had driven his shield into Tony Starks _heart,_ and he’d looked at what he’d done, and he thought – he couldn’t think, then, he couldn’t fall apart over it, because he had to get Bucky out of there.

 

He couldn’t fall apart over this now. Who knows what might depend on it. He couldn’t afford to slip.

 

Steve was standing on a terrace in Wakanda, giving himself the same pep talk he’d been giving himself for a hundred years. Only this time, it was more important than ever. If he thought about _this_ , he knew, there was a chance he would fall apart completely. If he started thinking about Tony, if he tugged at the wrong thread and really thought about everything, he might never be able to put himself together again. He just knew it. He had to keep moving forward.

 

The night before was as close as he’d come to the edge. Maybe two minutes after Tony had hung up on him, after the shock had worn off and he’d realised – Tony really had said no.

 

 _And you have no one to blame but yourself_.

 

It had felt like his ribs had caved in, as though there were a gaping, physical wound in his chest that everything just fell into. He was empty, unendingly, hopelessly empty.

_You’ve lost him, forever, you’ve really ruined everything, and you deserve this, this is all your fault._

 

And, God, he was _sorry_. He felt it deep in his muscles, right down at the bottom of his stomach, a feeling that was undeniably remorse. He still didn’t know what he was sorry for, he still couldn’t bring himself to face the words, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t.

 

That was when he was supposed to remember that being sorry was of no use to anyone. When he would usually tell himself that what he’d lost, or what he regretted, weren’t important. But last night, just for a moment, he really couldn’t remember what was more important. He couldn’t imagine anything more important than the fact that Tony had told him no. There didn’t have to be a grander significance.

 

And then he’d sent that text.

 

The act of pressing ‘send’ had sobered him up quite a bit. He’d reread the message and realised what a rash, emotional thing he’d just done.

 

_If Tony turns up here with Ross-_

_I didn’t even get to warn him-_

_If anyone else finds Bucky-_

_If Tony finds Bucky-_

_I gave T’Challa my word-_

_What will Tony think when he reads it?_

 

And then, a moment too late, the old defence mechanism kicked in. He couldn’t take it back. No one wanted a well-crafted apology – they would want a solution. Tony wasn’t coming, and that idea would always taste of tears to him, but he’d have to ignore it. Nothing was going to make it any less true. He had to think what he could do now.

 

Which, as it turned out, had been frustratingly little. By that time it had been deep into the night. His team were all finally sleeping and T’Challa was busy with a city in chaos. Steve wished he’d gone up to Wanda’s room earlier, he wished it hadn’t taken them so long to get to Shuri’s lab, he wished he hadn’t had to wait to speak to T’Challa – he wished he’d just called Tony back sooner. And then he’d decided that there _must_ be something more useful he could be thinking about.

 

God knows what it was, but somehow, he’d filled the rest of the night. He managed to avoid any more mental spirals like a man walking a tightrope – don’t look down, don’t think about it, just one foot in front of the other. He’d _thought_ he was trying to make it through until morning, until his team were awake or T’Challa was available, until he could actually do something about this catastrophe.

 

Then morning had arrived, and it hadn’t helped at all. He was glad that T’Challa and Shuri were still busy, he was relieved that Wanda slept through breakfast, he _didn’t_ tell Nat and Sam the whole story. He barely recognised that he was putting it off. That he was dreading saying it. And it wasn’t that he may have just blown Wakanda’s cover by having Tony come here to arrest them – although, he wasn’t much looking forward to that conversation, either – it was the thought of telling them that Tony had said no. The idea filled him with a deep sense of shame; he couldn’t bear for them to even know it.

 

But Nat had just come to tell him that Shuri wanted to see them in the lab, and Steve knew there was no more avoiding it. He’d told her he’d follow on in a minute, although what good another minute was supposed to do… He would have to inform the group of this relevant piece of tactical information, he’d just have to think of it that way. Remain stoic and calm, act as though he didn’t care, and it would have to be fine. God, he really hoped Wanda didn’t get hysterical again.

 

He took the phone out of his pocket one last time. He thought of that last text. _We are in Wakanda. Please come._ What if that was the last thing either of them ever said to one another? What if that was the final line of this whole story? _Please come_ – and then silence. _And he never answered. The end._ That thought was so achingly sad, that-

 

And then the phone rang.

 

It came to life right there in his hands, like he might actually have wished so hard that it happened. Steve nearly dropped it.

 

“Tony?”

 

There was a second of silence.

 

“I’m bringing Vision to Wakanda today” Tony sounded like he was reading a statement at gunpoint. Steve scrabbled to find Captain America.

“ _You’re_ bringing him?” He clarified, trying to pretend he cared for the right reasons.

“I’m dropping him off” Tony corrected, “After that I have to be in Kenya.”

“…Kenya?”

“Crisis at my actual job. My life, still going on in the background over here” Tony informed him acidly. Steve took a deep breath.

“Tony-”

“I’m sorry, I can’t talk, Ross will be here any minute and there is just no legal reason I would be using a phone this shitty.” He interrupted hurriedly “So I’m going to go before I end up with even more fucking paperwork to do.”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you bring Vision?” And then the line went dead.

 

Maybe Tony hadn’t realised it was a question. Steve hadn’t been brave enough to make it clear it was a question. He hadn’t said no…

 

Tony hadn’t said no.

 

Steve let out a shaky breath. He had no idea what Tony _had_ just said, but he’d said something. He’d answered him.

 

He’d take that.

 

*

 

Tony’s hangover had lasted most of the flight.

 

His head was still throbbing petulantly as they began the decent into Wakanda, although how much of that was alcohol related and how much was stress was hard to say. Poor Vision – Tony had barely said two words since they’d left New York.

 

For the first few hours Tony had at least tried to think of something useful. He’d tried to read the information Ross sent, but all the words kept blurring together and the way they swayed made his stomach lurch. So then he’d started running through his plan, covering all his bases, trying to convince himself it really was the best solution.

 

He would probably have been on a flight to Kenya right now anyway. Ross had seemed pretty damn intent on Tony getting involved in this, and Tony had always preferred to see the scene for himself. He really wasn’t going to Kenya because of Steve. So there.

 

_But why are you going to Wakanda at all? Vision is quite capable of getting himself there from here._

_But should you be staying in Wakanda? Why are you rushing off when something urgent could be happening here?_

_Why are you helping Steve at all, after everything?_

_Why are you bothering to spite Steve at all, if you don’t care?_

But even after hours of analysis, Tony couldn’t come up with a better compromise than this. At least this way, if there _really_ was a Tony specific wormhole in Wakanda, he’d be there to find out. If not, well, bringing Vision here and checking in were a lot _more_ than Steve was owed. They could all consider themselves lucky he’d done this much…

 

No, this was enough. He wasn’t letting anyone down, he couldn’t, he _didn’t_ owe anyone anything-

 

_You could have saved us… Why didn’t you do more?_

 

So Tony had called a hard stop on that line of thought, and on trying to be useful at all. He’d spent the last half of the flight trying to work out whether he was still in love with Steve Rogers.

 

That should be an easy question, shouldn’t it? Even if the answer turned out to be completely irrational, he should at least know what it was. But then, it had taken him years to work it out the first time.

 

He’d been attracted to Steve quickly enough; that bit had been easy. And it wasn’t just because Steve was hot – Tony spent most of his time around attractive people, and that was _never_ what got him. Tony was only ever interested in a spark. Something different about a person, and something specific between them. Tony was attracted to smart people and funny people and even slightly unhinged people – but only ever when there was an interesting dynamic.

 

Steve had been textbook crush material. Brave and strong and clever – but also adorably naïve and heartbreakingly sweet sometimes. He was Captain America, which added an interesting element. And he annoyed Tony. He confused Tony, he surprised Tony, he challenged Tony – perfect for the part. For maybe a year, Tony had been harmlessly attracted to Steve, flirting without intention, noticing the things he would have fantasied about, if he hadn’t been with Pepper at the time. And he’d been happy with Pepper, he’d spent all his thoughts on her, so he knew he hadn’t been in love with Steve then.

 

It was the year after the break-up, although when that year he still didn’t know. Maybe it was just being allowed to fantasise about other people, maybe he actively looked for things to imagine when he found himself single again. But thinking about Steve that way had come far too easily. It had always felt like more than harmless mental flirtation. There were just so many scenarios, they came to mind too quickly, they made him feel more than just… And before long, they started including more than just sex. Soon he was thinking about making Steve smile, watching Steve sleep, stroking Steve’s hair… Around then, he’d realised that the quirks of their dynamic weren’t trivial things. The things they shared included the quiet moments after they almost died and a joy in the pure beauty of the future – real things, important things. The things that made Steve different were important things.

 

So, then he was in love with Steve Rogers.

 

And then Steve Rogers had broken his heart. Almost literally.

 

And now…

 

It wasn’t just that Steve had hurt him. It was that Steve had been _so_ horrible to him, Steve had lied to him for years, done things Tony thought he’d never do. He’d done things that Tony had loved him for not doing… so he shouldn’t love him anymore, right? If the connection he’d built the whole thing on had never existed in the first place.

 

_But he’s my friend_

 

And it turned out Tony never had been. Maybe Tony had never been in love with Steve at all. Maybe he’d just been in love with a figment of his imagination.

 

So why were there still nights when he suddenly found himself breathless, he wanted so much just to see his face….

 

Or, if he _was_ still in love with Steve, how could he hate him this much?

_Or,_ _if you hate him, why does the thought of him being hurt still upset you so much?_

_Or, if the thought of him being hurt upsets you so much, why do you still want to hurt him?_

It wasn’t like any of this mattered. How he felt was a lot more confusing than what he should do. He knew what he should do. He should cut Steve out of his life, try to move on from this, make every effort never to think about him again. Even thinking about Steve was bad for him. He ended up doing destructive things, drinking too much or working obsessively or flying the suit too fast, too high. He’d end up killing himself if he didn’t stop this soon.

 

So why didn’t he want to? He hated every moment of this.

 

The wheels of the jet had just touched the ground when he heard Vision inhale sharply. Tony had almost forgotten he was there.

“You okay back there buddy?” Tony called, as he finished the final checks. It was just him and Vision on this trip, for obvious reasons.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine” Vision assured him, unconvincingly. When Tony looked back, Vision’s hand was on his forehead.

 

There was a guilty twist in Tony’s chest, and he wondered again if it was irresponsible to just leave him here. He looked back at the windshield, telling himself he wasn’t looking for anyone specific, but it was too dark to see anything but his own reflection. Wow, he looked like shit.

 

“Okay, let’s get out there. See what we’re working with” He said, to himself as much as Vision.

 

_Let’s see if he turns up._

 

*

 

Of course Steve had turned up.

 

It was his place, as the leader of his team. It was his responsibility, as the person who’d invited Tony here. It was what Captain America would have done.

 

The fact that he could hardly breathe, he was so terrified and excited, wasn’t relevant. T’Challa and Okoye wouldn’t have known about his emotional turmoil, any more than they’d have known if he’d been standing there on a broken leg. Not when he was on duty.

 

It was just the three of them. Wakanda’s ‘public’ airport – a single runway near the boarder – was entirely deserted. They were still hoping to get the chance to explain the situation to Tony _before_ he came into the dome. Steve had been considering it all very professionally, trying to plan his words and rank his priorities and order his loyalties-

 

And then Tony had stepped off the plane.

 

Tony always just…looked different, to all other people. He _felt_ different, like he’d been digitally added to every scene, like he’d been taken from a time more advanced, more shiny and bright… Steve would always know him, always long to look at him. He’d always been drawn to him, right from the start.

 

At the beginning, it had been deeply, irrationally annoying. Steve’s entire world had just been upended when he first met Tony – he’d _thought_ the last thing he needed was someone as complicated and confusing as Tony Stark. Someone he didn’t _know_ if he liked, someone he might have liked very much but he didn’t know why, someone who would be likable and unlikable in the same minute. Tony Stark had given him a headache in the beginning – but he’d still wanted to be around him. He’d just kept going back to him, like a moth to a flame, even when every interaction left him feeling irritated.

 

And then every interaction didn’t leave him feeling irritated. And that made everything even more confusing…but, at some point, he stopped minding. At some point, he’d grown to like it. The fact that Tony wouldn’t fit into any of his boxes, wouldn’t be any of his labels, had started to make him feel real. Like, even if Steve could never completely stop being Captain America, at least there was someone there for all the times he was being…

 

And then there was a bunker in New Jersey. And then there was a bunker in Siberia.

 

And now, Tony Stark was here. Standing a few feet in front of him, in the half second before the introductions. Their eyes met.

 

And then Vision let out a painful groan.

 

Everyone turned to look at him. His whole body had curled in on itself, like he was trying not to drop to his knees, and his eyes were sealed shut.

 

“Vision, what’s going on?” Tony asked, barely managing calm. Vision didn’t answer him. He seemed to be putting all his effort into standing up and opening his eyes. It was a visible effort for him to raise his head to look at Tony.

 

“We have to go, now” Vision told him.

“Okay.” Tony agreed, immediately “Go where?” And Vision pointed, out into the darkness. In the direction of the slab. He looked like he was struggling to explain, so T’Challa stepped in to help him.

“I think we know where you mean” He assured Vision. “We can take you there.” He gestured towards a jeep, a few feet behind them. Vision didn’t take his eyes off Tony.

“It’s you” He managed “It has to be you, you have to come.”

“Okay, I’m coming, don’t worry” Tony was reassuring Vision before he’d finished talking. Even while he was thinking, _of course it has to be me. Of course it does._

_So much for just dropping Vision off_.

 

Tony helped Vision into the back of the jeep. He deliberately looked anywhere other than at Steve for as long as possible. And then, just before he could step into the jeep himself, he cracked. He looked up, knowing he’d find Steve looking right at him.

 

“Thank you” Steve told him sincerely. Tony squirmed under his skin.

 

_I love you_

_I hate you_

He just nodded, and got in the car.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank goodness that literally everything was turning to shit.

 

The short drive to the site had been quite tense enough – if they hadn’t had so much to talk about, one of them might have burst into tears. But T’Challa had to explain the entire history of Wakanda first. That had thrown Tony more than he would have expected. A secret futuristic wonderland, hidden somewhere on earth? Tony couldn’t even picture it, couldn’t fit it into his understanding of the world, at least not on the spot.

_And Steve already knew. They all already knew_.

 

Which was an odd thing to get hung up on. Childish. But Tony couldn’t help feeling a bit left out. A bit foolish, even, irrational though it was. It hit a nerve, the idea of Steve keeping secrets from him. It might have hurt his feelings to think of Steve, and everyone Steve _really_ cared about, reluctantly inviting Tony to their special place – _providing he followed the rules._ Except that Vision made another pained noise before it could.

 

They all tried getting Vision to explain what he was feeling, but it was futile. So, instead, Tony asked a thousand questions about what was actually going on – all directed pointedly at T’Challa and Okoye. By the time they arrived, all Tony really knew was that he should have been speaking to someone called Shuri.

 

Tony started scanning the landscape as soon as he stepped out of the jeep, but there was nothing that leapt out as a threat. Just scrubland, silent and unmoving in the darkness. He turned to ask Vision where the hell they should be going-

 

And everyone was looking at him. Expectantly.

 

“…What?” He asked, defensively. And then he saw Okoye, T’Challa and Steve all glance at one another, questioningly. He straightened his back.

“…You don’t _feel_ anything?” Okoye asked, eyebrow raised. Tony felt his patience fraying.

“Why, what should I feel?” He asked on a downward breath. _Don’t look at Steve, don’t look at Steve._

“It’s difficult to explain” T’Challa told him “Some people feel a certain… presence, here.”

“You are the only person who hasn’t felt it, since this thing began” Okoye clarified, bluntly. Tony just sighed. _Of course I am_.

“Is that what I’m here to see then?” He asked, irritably.

“No, here.” Vision told him, already walking toward it.

 

He really might have missed it. And, at first, he didn’t know what to do with it. Even if it was significant in some way, what, was he here to just… look at it? He only knelt down to touch it because it seemed stupid to have come all this way and not do anything.

 

And the moment his hand made contact with it, everyone there felt Visions relief. He stood up straight, and he seemed to _breathe_.

“Please, don’t let go” He asked, in his regular voice, before Tony could move. So Tony knelt more comfortably and put both his hands more firmly to it.

“What’s going on, Vision?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, all of this must have been very uncomfortable to watch.” Vision began. It was such a relief to hear him talk normally. “And I’m sorry that I won’t be able to give you any clear answers to this.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with a straight answer” Tony deadpanned.

“This thing” Vision gestured to the slab “It’s as though it feels by proxy. I think, specifically, it feels what you feel.”

“Me?” Tony answered. _Why me?_

“When you’re in close proximity to it, especially, I think that’s what causes the… confusion” He gestured vaguely to his head “Almost like a feedback loop. As though you aren’t quite in sync with it.”

 

Tony felt his flesh crawl. He remembered, vividly, the look on Visions face when he first collapsed, the horribly… _pitying_ way he’d looked at him.

 

“Wait, how long have _you_ been able to tell what I’m feeling?” He demanded. Vision shook his head, stoically.

“I can’t.” He reassured, “Or, at least, I couldn’t, before yesterday.” God, had that really only been yesterday?

“Can you now?”

“It’s not as… no, not really. Not when you touch it. I don’t know why that should be.” Vision told him, penitently. Tony’s head was spinning. “And I can’t feel it all the time, if that’s of any comfort.” It wasn’t.

 

Well, at least there had been a point to this horrible field trip.

 

“Okay, Vision, I’m going to take my hands off this thing now, okay?” He spoke slowly. “You ready?” Vision gave a little nod. He took a sharp intake of breath, but managed to hold it together. Thank God.

 

Tony took one final look at the slab. This alien thing that knew what he was feeling. Was it alive? Wait, did everyone here know what he was feeling? Was that the presence only he wasn’t aware of, because he’d been feeling it anyway? _Is Steve in my head, right now?_ He felt naked, violated and unclean. He couldn’t begin to think of all the reasons this was creepy.  

 

_How can this thing know what I’m feeling? I don’t know what I’m feeling. _

 

“Okay. So, I need to speak to Shuri” He spoke robotically. And then, before anyone could answer him

“Let’s do that.”

 

*

 

Steve had started off stealing little glances at Tony.

 

He was sitting on the other side of Vision, less than two feet away from Steve in the back of the jeep. _Right there._ Tony had been ominously quiet since they stepped away from the slab, like even his cursory answers were being prised from him. They quickly stopped asking him questions at all and sank into an awkward silence. Tony seemed unaware of even the atmosphere in that jeep, which was an _extraordinary_ feat of obliviousness. 

 

Steve looked over to him, briefly, just to check. He looked lost, and frightened… and just like Tony. He looked like Tony only looked in real life. Steve caught himself looking again, and again. And then he stopped catching himself. And then he stopped looking away. Tony, at least, was too preoccupied to notice, and Steve had forgotten there was anyone else in the car. He watched the way Tony _almost_ bit his lip occasionally, the way his brow creased with thought-

 

And then, he watched Tony discover Wakanda.

 

The light literally came back into his eyes. As they drove into the city, Tony looked up as though he was just getting his vision back, as though he wasn’t sure what to look at first. Steve watched him part his lips, watched those wide, dark eyes jump from one thing to the next like a child at a fairground. Tony almost, _almost_ , smiled.

 

Steve missed him so much then that it ached. Even with him sitting right there, Steve _missed_ him. He missed his smile. He missed all the fast-paced, fantastical nonsense Tony wasn’t sharing. He missed all the things that weren’t here even though Tony was. He’d wanted so much to show Tony Wakanda. The moment Steve had seen it, he’d thought of Tony’s face, if he’d been there. Watching him now was so nearly it, it killed him. Knowing that Tony was still as full of wonder as he’d ever been, still as clever and curious and courageous about the future – but it wasn’t for Steve anymore. It was right there, behind Tony’s eyes, in his thoughts. Everything he wasn’t going to share.  

 

_If I could have had one day… If there had been one day when I didn’t have to play a role, when I didn’t have to be Captain America, when I didn’t have to be responsible for anyone…If I had only one day in all my life to just be… I’d have brought you to Wakanda._

But he didn’t get a day. He didn’t get a minute. He didn’t have the time to be gazing hopelessly at Tony Stark. He still hadn’t worked out what to do about Tony, tactically speaking. Because everything had to be tactical, at least for him – even his deepest, most personal heartbreaks were part of a more important story. Even this thing between he and Tony, every awful part of it, had become one more factor in a mission to save the world. It didn’t matter what Steve would have liked to say, it didn’t matter what he cared about most, what he wanted to happen. He didn’t get to be precious about this. If Tony was connected, Steve had to consider whether it was best for Tony to stay here, how he could convince Tony to stay here – how he would have to behave to make this thing work. He’d have to be professional, even about this, because even this was work.

 

Ignoring his hurt, and his shame, and his confusion and regret, what did it mean that Tony was here? What did Steve have to say, or avoid saying? How did Steve have to act, what did he have to conceal, to make sure his real feelings didn’t put a nation at risk?

 

How could he think about any of that when Tony was right there, looking up in wonder at the sky?

 

*

 

Tony really did feel a lot more awake by the time they got to Shuri’s lab.

 

He was almost annoyed with himself over it. The thought of an alien artefact reading his mind was no less awful now, and he almost felt obliged to feel appropriately awful over it. Part of his brain kept trying to pull him back to it, sending occasional shivers down his spine to remind him of it.

 

But it had a hell of a thing to compete with. Wakanda was _wonderful_. It was like his imagination had come to life. Finally, something Tony wanted to think about, rather than something he had to gear himself up for. And he wanted to think about all of it. He wanted to just _look_ at everything, the way you look at roses or sunsets, just because they’re beautiful. He wanted to work out how everything worked, he wanted to think about everything he knew and check if he still knew it, if there were better things to know instead. A thousand ideas, a million sources of inspiration, everywhere he looked.

 

By the time he got to Shuri’s lab he really _was_ smiling.

 

“So, _another_ coloniser” Shuri greeted him.

“Correct” He answered with an easy grin, and then he looked her over. “Child Soldier?” He pretended to guess with an exaggerated frown. Steve felt T’Challa straighten up next to him, saw the flicker of disdain on Shuri’s face, and he thought _he’s been here literally two seconds…_ “No? You an archer?”

“An archer?” Shuri’s frown deepened.

“Well, you don’t strike me a Norse God or a hulk, so if you’re not the Natasha of the group…”

“I’m Shuri” She told him, standing a little taller as if to illustrate the fact that she was every bit his equal.

 

And Steve bit back a smile. It had taken him years to unpick all the layers of Tony Stark; he’d probably not got through them all yet. But he knew what Tony had just done. Shuri was the smartest person on earth, far smarter than Tony by almost every measure you care to mention. Almost. But, even if Shuri hadn’t said it, Steve knew she’d thought the words _I’m the Tony Stark_. Tony had made her think of which one of the Avengers she would be, subtly shown her that they were in some way alike. No one was smarter than Tony at _that._

 

“I _knew_ I was going to like you” Tony beamed, as though Shuri had meant it as a compliment, and then he carried on talking before she could correct his tone “You’re the princess, right? Did you build this place?” And he looked around again, eyes still full of amazement.

“Some of it” Shuri answered carefully, not sure whether to take his interest at face value.

“Which parts?” Tony asked quickly, like he was excited to hear the answer. And there it was – the slightest hint of a smile on her face.

 

“Well, I designed the equipment we’ve been using to monitor the site” She told him, pointedly. Tony felt like water had been poured on the fire of his fascination – not quite enough to put it out completely, but he certainly felt it shrink back. As interested as he was in what she’d invented, he was equally uncomfortable with what it might measure…

“We might have a bit more information for you, in that regard” T’Challa cut in, politely, looking from Shuri to Vision and back again. And, in a flash of inspiration, Tony realised that Shuri didn’t have any interest in his _feelings_ yet.

“No, hang on” Tony interrupted him, less politely “No, show me first” _Let me look at it as a piece of equipment first, before we have to start talking about what it actually is._

 

His request got a few raised eyebrows, but they indulged it. Initially, Shuri went straight to discussing the readings – but Tony stopped her. He wanted to know about the equipment – what it was made out of, how it worked, how Shuri came up with it, what theories it was based on. Shuri answered the first three questions impatiently and perfunctorily, trying to get them out of the way. The fourth question was slightly more involved, and relevant to the matter in hand, so she answered it more fully. The fifth and sixth questions were more interesting. And the seventh question wasn’t really the key thing, actually, what was more interesting-

 

“As much as I wish you had more people to talk to about these things…”  T’Challa intervened, softly, when it was clear that Shuri and Tony’s weren’t coming back to the point of their own accord. Steve saw Tony flash a small, conspiratorial smile, like he and Shuri had just been called out by a teacher. He saw Shuri almost smile back.

“ _These_ ” She told him firmly, before he could interrupt “are the readings we have collected.” Three screens flashed into life, each showing what looked a bit like a scatter graph… but not. There were lines scored through them, neither axis nor trend line, marked with symbols he didn’t recognise in places that made no sense. He knew, logically, that he had never seen anything like this…

 

So why did it look _familiar?_

 

It wasn’t a scientific feeling. There was no common feature that he could find between that display and anything he’d ever done. It was more like Déjà vu. The unshakable feeling that he’d looked at this exact screen before… Something about the shapes, maybe… And there was the shiver up his spine again. He was so scared of the thing he could see out of the corner of his eye that he was refusing to look – he was refusing to think about why this might feel familiar. How eerie that whole concept was.

 

But, ultimately, that doesn’t help. Even with all of Wakanda to distract you.

 

“And what are you measuring?” Tony asked, his voice not quite as animated now.  

“We aren’t sure” Shuri began “Direct tests suggest the artefact itself is inert even at the time of the spikes, so it doesn’t look like any reaction or transfer is happening at this point in the process – but, analysis of the spikes would suggest it _is_ part of a wider process, that an energy transfer _is_ taking place…” She trailed off at the end. She could feel the thing that everyone else knew, hanging there in the air. Tony let go of a little breath.

“Vision seems to think this thing can feel what I feel” He said, simply. Shuri did a double take, and then looked directly at Vision.

 

Vision had maintained a reasonable level of calm since Tony took his hands off of that slab. Really looking at him now, Tony could see the beginnings of discomfort again – but he was still able to talk. That was a relief.

“I find it hard to explain. I think, in part, it’s a physical phenomenon, and of course I’m uniquely ignorant in that respect. I think, perhaps, that part of this feeling might be what you’d call a stomach ache – except, of course, I’ve never had one.” He explained.

“Are you able to experience pain, ordinarily?” Shuri asked, looking him over “Are you ignorant of all physical sensation?”

“No, I understand pain” Vision told her, with a mature little smile “When struck, or when saddened – and I recognise some of what I’m experiencing now. But some of it, I think, is specifically human.”

“But you think you’re experiencing what Mr Stark is experiencing?” She confirmed, and Vision shook his head.

“Not directly. Unfortunately, it isn’t as clear as all that”

“So how do you _know_ it’s me?” Tony asked, a distinct edge on his voice.

“That part was simply a moment of inspiration” Vision answered, apologetically “Although I’m no less sure of it now. What I mean to say is that it isn’t a live feed. It isn’t that I directly experience what you do. More that I find myself… connected to it, at times.”

“Wanda said something like that” Steve spoke from the back of the room. “She mentioned you, and then she said she couldn’t feel it anymore”

 

Steve had barely said a word since Tony got off the jet. Just hearing his voice, here in the room… he’d said ‘you’, he’d been speaking to Tony… and he’d said Wanda. Steve and Wanda had been discussing this disgusting violation – oh, God, Wanda felt it, like Vision did-

 

But, as Vision hadn’t physically collapsed under the sheer weight of emotion, he clearly _couldn’t_ feel exactly what Tony was feeling. That was something of a comfort, just for now.

 

So, what to do about this?

 

“Mr Stark, would you be willing to stay here while I run further tests?” Shuri asked, after a moment of awkward silence. Tony looked up at her.

 

His immediate reaction was, _no._ No, that sounded horrible, no, he wasn’t willing, no, he wasn’t going to. He felt completely disregarded as a person. Like the world had reduced him to an experiment, right when he was feeling more irrationally, painfully human than he ever had in his life.

 

And, at the exact same time, he was deeply impressed by Shuri. So much more than he had been when he was looking at her extraordinary lab. Yeah, Tony always took an interest in smart, young people. He’d only ever been intrigued by potential. That’s what had driven him all his life, what pushed his interest in science and his Avenging and even his poisonous relationship with Steve – the promise of what might be. The chance to make it better. What you could make with raw materials. Smart young people were the chance to make something better than he could have been, a chance to see what happened to smart if you gave it a chance. And, obviously, Shuri had been the ultimate example of that – but, apparently, she was also something else entirely.

 

Tony had never met a special young person who didn’t feel the need to defend or apologise for what made them different. Those kids only ever knew being separated, suspected or expected or targeted. The best of them dealt with it in positive ways – like Peter, who was still endearingly nervous and endlessly humble, in spite of what he was. Kids who said sorry for being special or hid being special or couldn’t believe they were special. Much better than the alternative. Him. Kids who lashed out against expectations, dismissed others opinion, kids who were prickly and defensive and competitive.

 

And then there was Shuri. Shuri who didn’t feel the need to defend _or_ apologise for being that special. He thought of himself at, what was she, sixteen? Being brave enough to just ask that question. All smart kids know that people will react to them, they defend themselves in different ways. Tony would have done it by being a dick about it. Peter would have done it by stuttering for a full minute and saying sorry a lot. But Shuri just didn’t. Shuri just asked, like she had every right to.

 

It was impressive. Which made him no more interested in being an experiment, but it was probably the reason he didn’t just tell her to fuck off.

 

“It’s not as simple as that” He sighed, instead “They’re expecting me at a UN server facility in Kenya, for a start.”

“And if this proves to be a bigger priority?” She asked him. And if Steve had said that, Tony would have ripped his head off. But Shuri had just asked him, reasonably enough. It had been a long time since someone just talked to him like a normal person – not sucking up, not looking to put him down, not picking a fight or trying to tiptoe around one. Just asked the fucking question.

“If you mean, am I going to walk away from a potentially world ending catastrophe, no.” And as he said it, he resigned himself to the fact that it was true. It had always been true “But I can’t assume this is a world ending catastrophe because we’ve got a few tantalising details. You can’t go running after Siberian super soldiers on a hunch”

 

Had he said that last bit out loud?

 

“There could also be a world ending catastrophe happening in Kenya, and I can’t just ignore it because of a few readings we don’t understand and Visions general sort of mood”

 

Oh, he wanted to look and see if it had landed. He _wanted_ to outright demand Steve answer that point. Instead, he watched Shuri think about what he’d said, and resisted the temptation to yell _look, she’s SIXTEEN and she’s being more adult about this than you’ve ever been._

 

“And what if we could arrange for someone else to go to Kenya?” She suggested after a moment “If there isn’t some _personal_ expertise you have, we might be able to send a technician to investigate the problem. I’m sure they’d been qualified to react” Tony looked around the lab again. _Yeah, I bet they would_.

“I’m sure it could be arranged, politically speaking” T’Challa assured him “And you have my word, they would report back exactly what they found there. If you feel you need to leave for any reason, we’ll facilitate it.”

 

Tony felt utterly defeated. _Don’t mind me, here with my opinions and feeling and perspectives, while you decide how to arrange my life._ On paper, the royal family had just covered all the bases. Solved all the problems. Because wanting to kick Steve in the gut, and never wanting to see Nat or Wanda again, or wanting to yell a thousand different things to all of them, or wanting to kiss Steve right _now –_ none of them were problems, officially. Not from a global stability standpoint. And Tony wanted to throw an outright tantrum. But he wasn’t going to. _He_ was going to be at least as mature as the sixteen year old.

 

And then a little thought occurred to him, like a flicker, just as he started to answer.

 

“Yeah…” Was that a smile? “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that covers everything. Yeah, that does actually mean I might be able to help without it turning my whole life to shit.” A beat, for emphasis, and then in a sincere voice “Thank you for asking.”

 

He _heard_ Steve exhale. He so wanted to look.

 

“No, thank you for agreeing to help” Shuri answered, with a hint of a frown at Tony’s strange change in tone.

 

“I’ll show you both to your rooms” T’Challa offered, as a way to break the atmosphere “I shouldn’t think there’s much more to do before tomorrow?” He looked at Shuri, who shook her head.

 

Tony was suddenly so tired.

 

*

 

When Tony finally fell into his mattress he actually groaned with relief.

 

Oh, an actual _bed_.

 

He’d been sleeping on the couch in his workshop for a week, a few hours at a time, in between irate phone calls and problems in different time zones. Just lying flat was such a pleasure. And the bed was soft, and the sheets were clean, and there was such a lovely ache in his muscles as he sank, deeper…

 

He snapped his head up. Couldn’t fall asleep yet. He’d open his eyes and it would be morning, and he wasn’t ready for it to be morning. He had things he had to get straight before he clocked in as a guinea pig.

 

He had to stop thinking about Steve, for a start. He had to stop running the night over in his mind, thinking about what he should have happened or what any of that meant. He couldn’t start thinking about the others – although, what he was going to do when he saw them, he didn’t know… Did he have to do anything? He’s spent the whole evening right next to Steve and no one had _done_ anything-

 

No. Not that. That wasn’t what he was meant to be thinking about.

 

What was he meant to be thinking about?

 

Not the fact that he might literally have just _demonstrated_ his point for Steve. Although, that would be a good thought, wouldn’t it? He’d spent so many nights thinking about _saying_ it.

                _If you’d told me everything from the start, I would’ve helped you-_

_You decided for me-_

_It’s so disrespectful, you didn’t even run it past me before-_

_It was so reckless – you could’ve checked-_

_You didn’t even think of making it easier for me. You didn’t even-_

He’d never found the words. But he might have just _done_ it. He might have just-

 

No, definitely not this. He had about ten minutes before his brain shut down completely. He wasn’t meant to be thinking about this.

 

He was meant to be thinking about an unidentified alien artefact, which was clearly part of an organic energy transference system, and was possibly causing interruptions to power supplies nearby-

 

_And that knows what you’re thinking_

 

He flinched it away. He’d work out why this was horrible later. Right now, there were scientific questions to consider. Like why would this thing have singled him out, if it has been there for millions of years? Why would it be him, out of all the billions of people on earth, and how would an alien even find him? Why had it started reacting like this now? He thought back to the displays in Shuri’s lab. They were just shapes to him now, vague ideas floating in a fast vanishing short term memory, changing as he tried to look at them…

 

And then he realised, he was remembering something else.

 

Tony knew why those scatter diagrams had seemed so familiar. He’d drawn graphs like it once.

 

Not graphs that looked like that, not graphs made from readings like that – but graphs that did the same thing. And even though they didn’t look quite the same, he knew that’s what they were. Because even though it had been so, so long ago, he’d put so much _thought_ into those graphs when he’d drawn them. Real, honest, deep thought. Now that he knew what they were, he _understood_ those graphs. He knew, even before he realised –

 

Oh, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?

 

Oh, no.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is turning out to be loooooong.... I'm sorry. Also, I did make some effort to stick to real science, and also, I'm bad at science, so if anyone knows actual science, warning, there may be pain...

None of us know what is real.

 

Steve thought about this a lot. Increasingly, actually, especially since they went on the run. He wondered, if he woke up back in 1943, would he just accept it? Could he be made to believe that all of this had been a coma dream; would he ever believe that 1943 wasn’t? He’d accepted the 21st Century was real. Maybe he should have given some real thought, then, to whether he’d gone mad. Or died and gone to… purgatory. If he woke up tomorrow and it was two years ago – how long would it be before all this felt like a dream? If he’d woken up in a mental institute, and a doctor sympathetically explained that there _was_ no such thing as Avengers, super soldiers or aliens… would he fight that? Would he look for whatever villain had drugged or hypnotised him, or would he accept that, really, logically, that made far more sense?

 

Steve wondered how you could ever work out what was real, from the inside. If he’d only known that, every disaster in his life could have been avoided.

 

This morning, for example. This morning, Tony Was Back. Just like that, a whole new reality, where everything might _look_ the same… but everything still looked different, now. Steve hadn’t even _seen_ Tony this morning, hadn’t done anything differently to that morning he woke up in Wakanda without him, six months ago… but everything was so different, now. Like the same morning played out in two parallel universes. Even the thoughts in his head. Suddenly, Steve was sitting at the breakfast table trying to remember Tony’s exact words, pulling them to pieces and wondering what he should have said – like he’d reverted to a former version of himself. Like this version of him should be sitting at a breakfast table in New York, in a world that didn’t exist anymore. A world that he’d destroyed.

 

When Tony hadn’t been there, Steve struggled to remember just how _there_ he’d been, before. And now that he was back, Steve couldn’t remember what he’d done without him.

 

It wasn’t even thinking _about_ Tony. He’d been doing that, or pointedly _not_ doing that, for six months. It was thinking in that Tony way. That real investment in what was happening, the strange compulsion to think unhappy, unhelpful things.

 

Thinking like a real person. Which wasn’t what was needed, right now.

 

Steve had spent the whole night trying _not_ to think about Tony. Trying not to think too much about the stabbing sensation in his chest, the echo of all the things Tony had said.

 

_You can’t go running after Siberian super soldiers on a hunch_

And his whole body had seized up there in his bed, the way it would if he knew he had to take a punch to the gut. _Yes, I know. I know._

 

_Yeah, that does actually mean I might be able to help without it turning my whole life to shit. Thank you for asking._

 

He’d actually gritted his teeth, each and every time that memory popped up. _Yes, I know._

 

And he did know. At least, he knew that if he really thought about all the mistakes he’d made, all the hurt he’d caused…. He already knew Tony was right about all that. Thinking about why would have just… Captain America didn’t lie awake in his bed, sobbing or screaming or whatever horrible thing might have happened. Captain America did not feel a hot stab of jealousy, watching Shuri accidentally demonstrate everything he should have done. _Yeah, alright. I know._

 

He had to defend himself from thinking about all that. But, by the following morning, he couldn’t defend himself from thinking about _everything_. He couldn’t stop himself thinking as though Tony Was Back. Because that was the reality now. He’d just have to roll with it. Again.

 

_Would you, though? Would you have been so reasonable, if I’d come to you with everything as soon as Bucky told me?_

_Would you have been so reasonable with Shuri, if not to spite me?_

 

Arguments that wouldn’t have occurred to Captain America. Points that had nothing to do with saving the world. Things he only wanted to say for himself, as if he mattered. Things he wanted Tony to hear, as though another person really existed. As though he really existed, for anyone else.  

 

He thought of Tony calling Shuri a child soldier, knowing he’d only done it to provoke a reaction. How easily Steve had fallen into that familiar frustration with him. And then how smoothly Tony had turned it into something else – how Steve had been impressed with him and annoyed at him for the same damn thing. Captain America wouldn’t have cared about any of that; there wouldn’t be anything for him to be confused by. He wouldn’t have _seen_ the way Tony admired that lab, he wouldn’t have noticed the way he drew Shuri in. Because Captain America didn’t feel this way.

 

But when Tony was around, Steve could almost imagine it. Like he could almost see what the real Steve would have seen, in a parallel world where it was actually possible. Somewhere, in the realm of potentials, there as a Steve who was allowed to acknowledge this thing between them. A Steve that was allowed to be confused and complex, a Steve that could watch Tony Stark show off and feel annoyed _and_ impressed… and excited. Somewhere there was a Steve that wanted to grab Tony Stark by the shoulders, throw him _hard_ against a wall, _consume_ that thing that Tony did to him, whatever it was.

 

This Steve didn’t know. In this reality, he wasn’t allowed it.

 

*

 

Meanwhile, Shuri had arrived at her lab to find Tony Stark already sitting outside.

 

It took her a second to place him, as much as he stood out in Wakanda. When she’d met him, he’d been wearing an expensive business suit like the ones in all of his press photos. He looked very different in a faded Alice Cooper T-Shirt and a pair of sleep pants.

“Have you come to my lab in your pyjamas?” She asked by way of greeting.

“Grown ups don’t have ‘Pyjamas’” He informed her. “This is lounge wear.”

“Specific clothing for the short period before and after you go to bed” She smiled “This is why people think you’re privileged.”

“Oh, is that why, _princess_ ” He grinned. “I thought it was because I am nowhere-near-as-rich-as-you-are-but-still-very-rich.” And she cocked an eyebrow at him. _Ah, touché._

 

“So what brings you to my lab in the brief period after you woke up?” She asked cheerfully, as she entered her security details and opened the doors “Are you that eager to begin the testing?”

“Dear lord, no” He answered casually, following her inside “That’s a whole other thing. I’m here to ask if I can see your readings again.”

“From the site?” She asked, waking up all of her equipment with a single wave of her hand. Tony was too busy marvelling at it all over again to answer her. So she brought them up anyway.

 

Tony saw them flash up and felt his stomach drop. He saw it before he’d walked over to the screens. He hadn’t realised that he’d been hoping he was wrong. He’d hoped to have another look at these readings and find that the similarities weren’t real. Maybe it had all be the product of an overtired mind.

 

Nope.

 

“You think you know what this is?” Shuri guessed, walking over to him. He pressed his lips together thoughtfully.

“Maybe.” He admitted, breathing slowly. How best to explain the link?  

 

“You have a natural langue UI?” He asked as though it wasn’t a question “Interactive artificial intelligence?” And Shuri just nodded, of course “Are any of them… Do they have personalities?”

“Personalities?” Shuri frowned.

“Yeah, like, are any of them sarcastic, or have like a dry sense of humour or… I dunno, do any of them flirt, or anything?”

“Flirt?” Shuri repeated, both eyebrows raised “What would be the point of any of that?” And Tony just smiled, sadly.

 

_Because JARVIS was awesome._

He missed JARVIS.

 

“But you could, if you wanted to?” He pressed, and Shuri considered it.

“I suppose…” She thought out loud, the creases deepening in her forehead. “Although, you’d have to programme… You would have to _code_ a personality, so you’d have to…” She trailed off. _Could_ she do it, if she wanted to?

“You’d have to find a way to objectively quantify subjective things” He finished for her. “You would have to find the rationale behind irrational human behaviour, so that you could tell a computer how to interpret it – but also how to _be_ it.”

“What does that mean?” She asked, as though she was actually interested. Tony smiled.

 

“Okay, let me introduce you to someone” He suggested. And then took his phone out of his pocket, pressed a few keys, and held it out between them. “Shuri, meet FRIDAY”

 

“Pleased to meet you” FRIDAY answered, loud and clear over the phones’ superior speakers. Which was obviously something any AI would have responded with… but already, Shuri was beginning to understand what Tony meant. She could _hear_ the smile in FRIDAY’s voice.

“Hello FRIDAY” Shuri responded obligingly “What do you do?”

“I keep _him_ out of trouble” FRIDAY answered, knowingly. Shuri looked up at Tony, immediately fascinated.

“Sounds like a difficult job” She carried on.

“It has its moments”

“How dare you” Tony mocked “I take care of everything myself”

“And I’m programmed to let you think that, boss” FRIDAY carried on fluidly. _Ironically._ Shuri was talking to a computer that understood irony.

 

“And you…made her?” Shuri asked Tony directly, amazed by how natural it was to call a computer programme _her_. “You…brought her to life?”

“I guess so, yeah” Tony smiled, putting his phone away. Shuri actually flinched, like Tony had hung up on someone. She was immediately worried about hurting that programmes feelings. That was amazing.

“How…?”

“Well, like that” Tony gestured to the screens “Sort of.”

 

Tony thought back to all of those endless nights, inventing JARVIS. Trying to turn a character he knew in his soul into a programme he could quantify in his head. All those hours of frustrating, circular analysis of the human psyche, of the human experience, of _himself_. How to explain that, succinctly?

 

“When you were a kid, was there a time when someone told you that you actually have to draw peoples eyes half way down their head, and you were like, no way, peoples eyes are right at the top of their head, and then you looked, and you realised that what you were literally looking at was all wrong, all this time?” And then he thought, no, that’s a really weird way to begin. But, astoundingly, Shuri actually laughed and nodded, yes. “And then there was a time when someone told you that boiling water can actually freeze faster than cold water, and you were like, no way, and then you tried it, and it actually did?” Which wasn’t something the average kid would have known, maybe, and certainly wasn’t something the average kid would have tried – but he knew Shuri would have. And yeah, she nodded. “Personalities are so like that. When you really look at people, you realise, some people are so thoughtful some ways and so thoughtless in others, or so smart and so stupid, or so open minded but so judgemental of that one thing…and it doesn’t even seem crazy to you when its right it front of you, until you try to quantify it…”

 

He remembered the real Jarvis. He remembered remembering the real Jarvis, trying to find the right numbers and sequences that would recreate a treasured memory. Trying to find the code that would know him better than he knew himself, the way the real Jarvis had. In the end, he’d made something else. But that other thing had been… something else. And then it had died, too. Tony had killed him. He’d sacrificed JARVS to create Vision. To save the world.

 

“But you have to quantify it” He carried on, pointedly “You have to find a pattern, and turn it into numbers, if you’re going to create a programme that can begin to learn for itself. You have to programme it to learn in a particular way, a way that is subtly different to the way other personalities would have learned, because that’s what creates a personality that’s different from others – but it can’t just be you. You have to programme someone that sees the world differently to you, but it has to be consistent.” God, it had been a long time since he really thought about this. “And, the way I did it, it sort of ended up looking like _that_ ” He gestured to the screens again.

 

“But these are objective readings, from scientific equipment” Shuri spoke like she was playing devils advocate. “This isn’t something that someone has designed.”

“No, but it doesn’t look exactly like the graphs I drew” because Tony had already thought about all of this. He’d dreamed about it. “I think, this might have been what I was going for.”

“So, you think this might be an objective representation of a human personality.” She summarised, soberly. “…Yours?”

“That would be a _horrible_ thought, wouldn’t it?” He confirmed, wincing. She just looked at him, sympathetically, because yeah, it really was.

 

“But” Tony carried on, bravely “That still doesn’t explain the energy transference. Well. It still doesn’t explain a lot of things.”

“No.” Shuri agreed, distracted. She was looking at the screen, reconsidering what was in front of her with fresh eyes. Looking for new connections. “But. It might mean I need to run different tests.” She said, after a while.

 

“Oh goody” Tony sighed.

 

*

 

Tony and Shuri and barely had time to get into it. _Apparently_ , it had been agreed that they were all going to meet at nine to talk about what was going on.

 

_All of them._

 

But hey. So far this morning, he’d learned that an alien race possibly had his soul on extra-terrestrial digitape. What was coming face to face with everyone who had, collaboratively, destroyed your life? He was already sure that nothing was claiming the Head Fuck Of The Day award. Which was a hell of a thing to be confident of, at 9am.

 

And, yeah, walking into a conference room and seeing Sam, Wanda, Natasha and Steve on the other side of a conference table wasn’t _quite_ that bad-

 

But it still sucked.

 

He looked at Sam and he thought, _you don’t even know me. But you were so quick to talk down to me, when I came to you in the prison cell you’d earned, while I was begging for a chance to help the man who crushed me._

 

He looked at Natasha and he thought, _you hated me for not changing my mind at the exact point you did. You blamed me, because I could have stopped Steve from ruining everything – and then you sided with him. _

 

He looked at Wanda, and he just thought, _I hate you_.

 

He didn’t look at Steve.

 

He just took his seat, on the other side of the desk. And then he looked at T’Challa, standing diplomatically at the head of the table, between the two sides. He would keep looking at the neutral ground until this thing was over with.  

 

Except that the last person to walk into the room was Vision.

 

As it happened, Tony had been looking in Wanda’s general direction when Vision walked in, behind him. He couldn’t help but see the way her eyes lit up. And, because Steve was sitting next to her, he couldn’t miss the way his face softened. The obvious joy he took in Wanda’s happiness, the simple appreciation of his friends’ pleasure.

 

Tony felt his blood boil.

 

He didn’t even turn around when Vision spoke.

“Wanda” He acknowledged softly. “Everyone.”

“Good to see you, Vision” Steve smiled, in his Captain America voice.

“Vis…” Wanda breathed, fidgeting as though she wasn’t sure whether to stand up or not. Tony clenched his teeth.

 

Vision took his seat next to Tony. Tony exhaled, slowly, though his nose.

 

“Thank you, again, for being here” T’Calla addressed them all, opening the meeting. “I’ll begin by saying that our technician is in Kenya, and she has already sent her first report.”

“Any idea what’s going on there?” Tony asked, looking somewhere over T’Challa’s shoulder now.

“Actually, her initial impressions suggest it may be connected.” T’Challa told the group “It appears that the UN facility suffered a power surge similar to what happened here, and they are physically close enough to suggest a link.” Tony just nodded. Mostly, he was glad he didn’t have to feel guilty for not being there, yet.

 

He half listened while T’Challa recapped the information so far. There wasn’t much that Tony didn’t know by now. He was too busy being apprehensive about what T’Challa didn’t know yet, what Shuri was surely about to bring to the table. Tony was mentally preparing himself for questions about the alien representation of his personality. He wished he had _any_ answers to shut them all down with, a plan he could’ve told them about before they asked him anything. He wasn’t ready for a discussion with any of these people, much less a discussion about-

 

“We don’t have any theories on what that process might be?” T’Challa finished his summary by looking to his sister. Her cue to add what she and Tony had discovered that morning.

“Not until I have run my tests, brother.” She told him, instead. Tony blinked.

“So it seems we have no choice but to wait until we know more about what is going on.” T’Challa added as a final point, essentially bringing the meeting to a close.

 

Tony looked at Shuri, and mouthed _thank you._

 

She smiled, and shrugged.

 

*

 

Tony couldn’t have left the room any faster.

 

Steve was left, looking at the space where Tony had been. All those words, reabsorbed back into his mind the way dead things are reclaimed by the soil. Ideas that went straight from things we might have said to things he never would, like a corrupted natural process. He felt poisoned by it, like there was all this death festering inside him, like parts of him were being killed off and left to rot every time he didn’t manage to say it, do it, work it out.

 

But it wasn’t his choice to make. Not this time. Or, he’d made his choice already… whichever. It didn’t matter now. Tony was never going to listen to him, wasn’t even going to give him a second to try. Obviously. The only thing Steve could do was to stop thinking about what he would have said. Stop creating these ideas that could only die inside him.

 

_He’d come to that meeting straight from bed. His hair was still all…soft._

_Only Tony would have come to that meeting in his pyjamas._

_That was so disrespectful_

_Frustrating, annoying_

_Irritating_

_Eccentric, different_

_Endearing, familiar_

_Adorable._

He wished he could just ask Tony how he was. The distance between them hurt more than anything, having him right there and still so far away. Steve knew nothing about Tony’s life anymore. He didn’t know what Tony was thinking about, how he was coping, what he did with his time these days. If he could only ask the question, he would have taken whatever response he got. He’d take furious, he’d take heartbroken, he’d take each and every one of the points he’d tried so hard to ignore. He’d take the guilt and the shame and the pain and the rage that came afterwards. He’d even accept the possibility that it would be the end of him completely. But he didn’t have the front to ask. He had lost the right to ask. After everything, he knew he’d never be able to just say to Tony _how are you_. Or any of the thousand other ways he’d thought of wording it, knowing those thoughts never had a chance.  

 

The rest of the room shuffled awkwardly to their feet. Nat caught his eye, waiting for Sam and Wanda to move away from immediate earshot before she spoke.

 

“If he won’t talk to you, there’s nothing you can do about it” She assured him, softly. “Sometimes you just have to let it go.”

 

And Captain America knew she was right. It’s just a fact: you play the battlefield you find yourself in. You don’t complain when the terrain becomes difficult – to who? You don’t call it unfair that certain strategies won’t work – they just won’t. Objectively, it was clear that talking to Tony wouldn’t work. And never talking to Tony again would make things difficult. But there it was. It was his job to make the best of the situation, save what he could. Try not to fall apart over it. Hold on to the people he had left. Never even think, _but I wanted him_.

 

Instead he just sighed. And then he, and Nat, glanced over to where Vision had just put his arms around Wanda. And when he saw the look on Wanda’s face, pressed against Visions chest, he _did_ smile. And Captain America was even allowed to be a little bit jealous of that – because it was the nice sort of jealousy. The distant, hypothetical sort of jealousy, that is really nothing more than looking at your friends’ happiness and thinking it must be nice.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see you yesterday” Vision told Wanda, softly, as though it was only the two of them I the room

“It’s okay” She smiled “You’re here now.”

 

Was Captain America allowed to be jealous of that? Was he even allowed to think it would have been nice, if he and Tony… Did Captain America get jealous of people that hadn’t blown it, because he had? Didn’t sound right. Didn’t _feel_ right. This felt like the other sort of jealousy, the deeply personal, bitter jealousy that Steve might have felt about, say, Shuri, suddenly standing in the role of colleague and confidant, if Captain America could have felt jealousy like that.

 

“C’mon” Sam suggested quietly, nodding towards the door. _Let’s leave them to it._ Steve managed a smile back.

 

Why shouldn’t someone get to be happy today?

 

*

 

Shuri was as eager to get back to her lab as Tony was, although he suspected it was for different reasons. He’d glanced at her once or twice while her brother explained things she already knew, and seen that she was lost in deep thoughts of her own. Using the meeting to race ahead on new ideas. He knew she’d want to get right to work and, as much as he hated what they were working on, Tony was glad. Doing was better than thinking, especially right now.

 

“Could you perhaps talk me through an example?” She got right into it, opening the readings again as she spoke.

“An example of?”

“An aspect of FRIDAYs personality, how you came to identify and isolate it, the process of coding it.” She explained, and Tony smiled. He wondered how long it would be before she had one of her own. Whether it would be loaded and live and bantering with him before he left.

“It’s…” Wow. It was surprisingly difficult to explain if you didn’t already know FRIDAY. Which was an odd thought. “Okay, so, lets say you want your AI to be comforting-”

“Comforting?” Shuri repeated, almost laughing “You want to programme a computer to be _comforting_?”

“Well, okay, you want to be able to say something human to it, and have it say something human back. That’s the ultimate aim. So that means it has to understand and respond to things that aren’t commands or requests, for a start. And to be able to distinguish the difference, the way a human would. You want to be able to just say to it ‘What the hell am I doing with my life?’ and have it know that it isn’t a literal question, and have a personal, sentient response. The thing that FRIDAY would have said.”

 

He was thinking about all of this as he said it. He hadn’t given the process any serious thought since he finished working on it. He’d been so much younger then.

 

“So, first you have to decide, roughly, basically, what sort of person you want her to be. How you want her to respond in general. So, lets say you want her to be comforting. First, you have to decide what you mean by that – would she have some sage advice for you there? Would she know how you felt? Would she reassure you? Would she call you an idiot for being worried over nothing? But, the thing is, after that you have to think about _why_ she’s like that. How she got there, how she’d _feel_ when you said it, what it would remind her of, what she’s looking for… because otherwise, you just programme her to say comforting pleasantries when she heard certain prompts. She’d just be parroting back things you already knew, things you told her to say at the times you told her to say them. You have to programme a thought process in, an organic, _human_ thought process, so that she can then go on to learn and develop responses for herself.”

“And where does she learn those from?” Shuri asked enthusiastically, like she’d already come up with some theories of her own.

“From other people, same as any human” Tony smiled “From the reaction she gets, from what she’s seen happen before. She learns to read facial expressions and tone of voice and remember her history with people – she just processes it all according to the personality she’s programmed with. The thoughts and biases and preferences and priories she has. Sorry, that all got a bit Upper West Side. Is any of this helping?”

 

Shuri had been listening so intently that it took her a second to register the question.

“It helps me understand what I’m looking at” She told him, and then she glanced over at the screens again. Tony felt a little dip in his stomach as it all became personal again. “So, how does that become something like this?” Tony tried not to think about it being him he was looking at.

“Well, the thing with personalities is that a lot of things intersect. At… odd angles.” He sighed. “So, lets say you _have_ come up with Comforting, FRIDAY style. It would actually be several different inputs, like just here” He gestured to a cluster of points on one of the charts “And all of these likely responses and priorities and stuff, taken together, would make your AI come across as comforting. And this might be what makes her sarcastic” he pointed to another cluster “and this might be what makes her reserved” and another. And then he ran his finger through the pattern those three clusters made, a line that wasn’t there on the screen “And then you have the pattern that allows those traits to exist together – when that person would choose sarcastic over comforting and vice versa, how someone that particular type of comforting is also reserved…” Then he pointed to one of the lines that was already there “And, on top of that you have structures like speech patterns…” He could see she’d started running away with the theory, thinking her own thoughts again.

 

“But you don’t actually programme them to _feel_ ” She went on, after a while.

“Not per se” He answered “You programme what they would think, if they were to feel. You DO programme them to think. In their own speech patterns, and so on.” Shuri considered a moment longer.

“Do you know what an empath is?”

“Is there _any_ chance there’s a crack team of Wakandan scientists that call themselves that..?” He sighed. She smiled sadly, no. “So you mean a person… or alien… with the power to feel or control the emotions of others.” He did _not_ like where this was going.

“Or, maybe, _use_ ” She said, cryptically, and waved a new screen of information into existence. “A few years ago one of our operatives was placed in the specialist neurological department of a leading London hospital. During that time an empath was admitted for testing. She was a human woman with a genetic abnormality, referred to in less enlightened places as mutants. She had the ability to read others emotions – but she also had some telekinetic powers”

“And the two things were related?” Tony guessed.

“From the results of her testing, Doctors theorised that her telekinesis was powered by the energy transference created by her empathic ability. Essentially, she created energy when she created emotions – or rather, when she changed one emotion to another, because the transfer is what does it…” And she gestured to the readings again.

 

“If you _were_ to programme emotions, the way you programme a personality, would it look the same?” She wondered, aloud. And Tony tried to visualise it, without immediately going to the screen in front of him. Now that she said it…

“But that wouldn’t explain these connections…” He pointed vaguely, his brain outrunning his mouth “Emotions don’t have to work consistently with one another…”

“But this isn’t a static programme, it’s a reading over time” She reminded him “If this were a representation of your changing emotional state-”

“-Then that would be the connection between one feeling and the next-”

“-And that would be the conflict between two emotions at the same moment-”

“-And if these lulls were when I was sleeping…” Oh dear. _If this were a representation of your changing emotional state_ …

 

He looked at the mass of data points and guessed patterns. So. That’s how I feel.

 

“Why would anyone care how I was feeling?” He asked, sincerely “Why would anyone want to quantify that?”

“Specifically, the transference of energy” Shuri mused along with him “Unless they’ve worked out how to use that energy, it…they…” And she looked at Tony. Tony looked back at her.

 

 _Unless they’ve worked out how to use that energy_.

 

It was probably all in his head, but Tony could have sworn he saw the readings change right there in front of his eyes.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, warnings in advance: Gets somewhat angsty, and this is no ones finest moment of the fic... If it helps, I do plan for their to be some payoff for all those feels. I also know so far it focuses more on the reasons that Tony was right in CA:CW. That is partly because of how the plot plays out - Cap gets more of a spotlight later. But...it is also partly cos Tony was mostly in the right. Just feel the need to be honest about that :-)

“It’s a good job I didn’t get dressed this morning, or else this would have been really awkward”

 

Tony was reaching under his T-Shirt to unstick yet another raft of ECG pads. His chest was covered in little tacky semi-circles, remnants of a whole days’ worth of testing. Tony’s heart had been monitored, his brain had been scanned, his blood had been drawn – he’d even had a spinal tap. Although those are far less painful and evasive when you use Wakandan technology. The only upside to any of this was getting an up-close look at Wakandan technology. At least he got to spend half the day inside various pieces of equipment.

 

“Only for you” Shuri informed him lightly, already looking at her latest set of results.

“Do you see the tiny little aliens?” Tony called over, and she smiled. Tony had made a throw away joke, hours ago, about tiny aliens filming an afterschool special in his head. Perhaps the first ever afterschool special where the moral was ‘maybe don’t be yourself quite that much, eh?’

“No, must be a commercial break” She answered, her grin fading as she got lost in the data in front of her. Tony gave her a moment with it.

 

“Anything interesting?”

“I’ll enter it with everything else, see if it helps fill in any blanks” She said instead of no. And then, while she was doing that, she muttered “Your heart really _isn’t_ in good shape…” He just rolled his eyes, because they’d been through all _that_ the first time she’d scanned it.

“Is that it for the slightly-less-horrible tests?” He asked.

“That’s all for now” She told him, looking up from the computer. “I want to see what this all tells us first. Maybe we can avoid some of the less-slightly-less-horrible tests”

 

Tony was surprised to find he was really quite moved by that. It wasn’t often that people bothered trying to avoid any pain on _his_ behalf. Most people, it seemed, never even stopped to think about his feelings at all.

 

“That is absolutely, 100% not going to be possible” He warned her. “But thank you”

“Well, it’s already looking like I will have to drug you” she told him bluntly, looking back to her readings. Tony huffed out a little laugh. Like _that_ was the test he was dreading most.

 

They had looked at the problem scientifically, as much as was possible. It was still a theory at this stage; not even that, yet. The idea that someone, or something, somewhere in space was – somehow – using some element of Tony’s emotional state as a source of power. A lot of blanks to fill in there, before it could even be a hypothesis. And all of that was before they looked for a link with the power surges.

 

But they both already knew this would involve studying Tony’s emotional reactions. Scientifically speaking, it had to. Unless, by some miracle, an ECG could prove they were on the wrong path completely, the next round of experiments had to be _emotional_. It would have to involve studying how he felt around different stimuli, educing certain emotions, it would mean him having to be completely honest about what he was feeling. Or maybe even having it all play out on a screen for everyone to see.

 

In the grand scheme of things, he was quite looking forward to the drugs.

 

“You mind if I step out for a minute?” Tony asked, already hopping off of the examination bench. He had a sudden craving for fresh air.

“No, go ahead” Shuri told him absentmindedly, lost in her work.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes” He spoke on autopilot as he walked through the door. Outside. It didn’t really matter where.

 

He barely noticed the corridor he was walking along. He was too busy tumbling into existential thought, too busy trying to think of his feelings as an objective reading on a screen. He had no idea if he’d passed anyone else on the way – funny that. The way the human mind works. He probably did walk past at least one other person on his journey and he really hadn’t seen them.

 

How did he see Steve so easily?

 

What part of his brain was always scanning for that particular shape? How had Steve managed to distract him from his thoughts, when he should have been thinking too deeply to even see him? He’d been thinking too deeply to see anything else. And yet, the split second he stepped out onto that veranda, he knew. Off to the left, out of the corner of his eye.

 

 _Steve_.

 

Well, he thought. This should make for some interesting readings when I get back.

 

*

 

Steve had never stopped expecting Tony to turn up at any minute.

 

He’d spent six months glancing back at dark-haired men, caught out every time by the reminder that, no, it _can’t_ be Tony anymore. He still found himself thinking of things he’d tell Tony, wondering when he’d be back, assuming him in some vague, wordless way. Just for a few seconds, each time, before he remembered. But still, he’d pictured this so many times.

 

A few seconds later and it would have hit him. He’d have known to be Captain America, he’d have remembered which reality to be Captain America in. But in that first few seconds it was just Tony walking out onto the veranda, looking exactly like Tony looked, and Steve immediately felt what he _would_ have felt in another reality –

 

He just said what another him would have said.

 

“Just not going to get dressed today?” He even smiled when he said it. And then Tony turned and _glared_ at him, and there was the sudden, cold realisation that-

                _That was a really stupid thing to say._

 

See, this is what happened when he stopped being Captain America for a _second._ This is what happened when Captain America said a stupid thing, like a normal person. He saw the colour rush to Tony’s face, the way his eyes darkened. And then Tony laughed, bitterly.

 

“ _Just not going to get dressed today”_ He repeated, aghast. “Six months after _that_ , and the first thing you say to me is _Just not going to get dressed today?_ ”

“I’m sorry, that was…” That was how we used to talk. That was another me, one that was allowed to tease you, and talk to you about insignificant things, and speak without thinking so hard. I know I’m not allowed that anymore. _I know_.

 

But, unfortunately, he didn’t know what he _was_ allowed, now.

 

“…I don’t know what to say” He surrendered, eventually. And Tony dropped his eyes, and bit his bottom lip, and he looked so _disappointed_. Steve felt a hot shame, crawling under his skin.

“You don’t know what to say” Tony said, his voice cold “Six months, and you don’t know what to say”

 

Steve dug his nails into his palms. That hot feeling began to prickle. A basic instinct to defend himself, the righteous anger of a chastened child. Because he _didn’t_ know what to say, he was sorry, he wished so much that he did – but he didn’t. He couldn’t make himself know what to say. Tony was upset with him for just not being good enough, and it _felt_ so unfair, even as Steve was feeling very guilty about it.

 

Tony took a heavy breath.

“Forgotten your lines?” He asked, sarcastically. “I’m pretty sure it goes something like, I’m very sorry that you feel bad, because I’m a wonderful person and I feel bad for the pain of all people, even the bad guys. And I’m very sorry that the _obviously_ right thing I was doing happened to tear your life apart, of its own accord, which is nothing to do with me. Then its how strongly you felt you were right, and how you wish everything could be different, and then it’s over to me.” And the bitterness kicked up a bit “Then it’s up to me to see if I can understand. That’s on me.”

“I _am_ sorry, Tony-”

“You know what, it’s fine, we both know that bit. We can say you did that” He waved Steve away, dismissively. The was an undeniable, inappropriate stab of anger in Steve then, a bodily frustration that made him want to scream. So he took a deep breath instead. But before he could work out how Captain America would have felt, Tony carried on talking. “Tell you what, why don’t you think about what you’d say to _Wanda?_ ” He suggested acidly.

“Wanda.” Steve’s tone was totally level now. Strange, and probably all wrong for the situation. But he knew he couldn’t sound angry, and being sorry wasn’t helping, and casual had apparently been wrong too, so… what? What _could_ he do?

“Wanda tends to fuck things up, just like me” Tony told him, spitefully. “And you’ve probably screwed her life up as much as you have mine. And yet, somehow, you manage to find what to say to her. Why don’t you pretend you’re talking to _her_ ”

 

_Because Wanda wouldn’t be looking to make everything I say wrong_

_Because talking to Wanda doesn’t kill_ _me_

_Because it’s different, you know it is, damn you._

 

But Captain America isn’t allowed to take anything personally, even the most personal conversation he’d ever have. He wasn’t allowed to get angry. He had to think calmly, rationally. Steve had to stop thinking of him as Tony and start thinking of him as a very hurt, very angry man that he had to manage.

 

“Because I know how hurt you are” He answered, sounding far more like the official version. “And I know nothing I could say would make it better. Everything I think of saying, I know it won’t make it better. But I do want to talk, Tony.”

 

Tony just looked at him, with those big, dark eyes.

 

“Come back to me when you’ve thought of something to say, then” He told him, eventually.

 

And then he left.

 

*

 

Tony found a different route to a different outside. A different patio, on a different side of the building. He wished he could have gone to a different side of the world.

 

His heart was pounding so hard his chest felt bruised. He couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet. He was just so… angry? Hurt? Embarrassed? He had spent too much of the day thinking about _emotions_ , that was the problem. The human condition, how personalities are formed… too much philosophising.

 

And look where it led him.

 

He hadn’t planned to say any of that. That wasn’t what he would have said, if he’d planned it. He’d thought of _thousands_ of things he could have said, bigger points that he might have phrased far more eloquently. But that was all before he realised it didn’t matter.

 

Because, when he came face-to-face with Steve, he had finally worked something out. There had been that instant rush of love, and the immediate searing hate, and he expected to be confused by it. Maybe it had been watching Steve look at Wanda and Vis. Maybe it was just because he’d spent all day thinking about how emotions work. But suddenly, it wasn’t confusing, it was obvious.

 

He loved who Steve was for literally everyone but him.

 

He saw Steve, being smart and thoughtful and compassionate, and he loved him. He watched how Steve treated _literally_ everyone else, and he loved him. If he’d never met Steve, and then watched every minute of Steve’s life, he’d never find a thing not to love about him. Because Steve was only ever horrible to Tony.

 

He wasn’t likely to have a constructive conversation, in the middle of that revelation.

He wished he _could_ have planned it. He wished he could have worked all that out on his own, he wished he’d had time to think about it before it all just came out his mouth. He wished he hadn’t got so… _emotional_.

 

Gah.

 

_Wanda tends to fuck things up, just like me_

 

 _Exactly_ like him. That was the thing. Wanda was almost an exact mirror of Tony’s mistakes, but worse. Wanda had done _everything_ Steve ever judged him for, but worse. But Steve had _never_ been as hard on her as he was on Tony, even before all this happened. Steve had lectured, and moralised, and emotionally withheld, and punished, and _judged_ Tony over Ultron. Months of snide comments and little looks – _have you learned your lesson?_ But Tony hadn’t done it _maliciously_. Tony hadn’t made all Steve’s friends see their worst fears, triggered a hulk-out that levelled a city – _put the fucking idea in my head in the first place._

 

_What did you think would happen, if you made me hate myself? How could I not hate someone who did the same but worse?_

_And why didn’t you judge or punish her? Not even half as much, not even at all._

_Why didn’t you forgive and comfort me, the way you did her?_

_Why didn’t you care what she did to me?_

 

He just knew, if he said that, Steve would say ‘what do you mean, what she did to you?’ They all would. Because Tony was just so insignificant, to all of them, that they’d _forgotten_. They’d forgotten that Ultron, all the damage it caused, all the damage it did _him_ , came from a spiteful idea she put in his head. He was _still_ haunted by the voice she’d put there. They’d forgotten that, even before all Ultron, Wanda had been part of a carefully constructed hate campaign to destroy his life – and why? Because Tony’s name had been on the side of a missile that someone else bought, and someone else fired, because someone else ordered it.

 

_She hadn’t just watched me punch her father in the face until he died_

_She didn’t have a mental break, she didn’t snap – she planned it_

_Would you have killed Wanda, to stop her killing me?_

_The way you would have killed me, to stop me killing Bucky._

 

He wondered if Steve would have tried to make him feel sorry for going after Bucky. If Tony hadn’t stormed off, would Steve be giving Tony those disappointed-father eyes now, trying to get Tony to understand Bucky’s point of view and see the error of his ways-

 

_You’d never do it to Wanda._

_You have never once sat her down and asked her to think about the hurt she caused me, the crime she tried to commit_

_Because you don’t care. Her hurting me doesn’t hurt you, the way me hurting Bucky would._

_You haven’t even noticed._

_It doesn’t make you like her less_

_It didn’t stop you liking her, for a second._

And Tony realised… Wanda is actual, objective evidence that it really was just _him._ The universe itself providing him with proof. Just in case he wanted to try harder, in case he thought there was something else he could do, in case he wanted to hold on to any hope whatsoever that anyone would ever love him. No, honey, it’s not anything you’ve done, or haven’t done, it’ll never be anything you do. It’s just you. Don’t believe it? Here is someone who has made every mistake you have, except much worse and not by accident, and you’ll notice she has not torn herself to pieces trying to make amends the way you have – you will notice that everyone likes _her_ just fine.

He _hated_ Wanda.

And he hated Steve, for not hating Wanda.

 

He hated Steve for ever telling him, _Tony. Come on, she's a kid!_

 

Because she wasn’t a kid, for a start, she’d been 22 – which was a whole year older than Tony had been when he took over the worlds leading arms company. Tony had never been allowed to forget what he’d done at 22, had always been held accountable for it.

_And she wasn’t ‘just a kid’ when it came to breaking out of the compound, going to war, getting arrested, going on the run – she was grown up enough when it suited you._

_We almost had a real conversation about The Accords. We could have listened and compromised and made it work – but you walked out in defence of Wanda. Wanda was worth taking a stand for._

 

Tony had been never worth taking a stand for.

 

And he thought off all the years he’d _tried_. How hard he’d worked to be the best, in the hope of winning his fathers affection. How much he’d risked to end the weapons operation, to make the suit in the first place, each and every time he wore it, in the hope he could find the reason everyone hated him and fix it. How many compromises he’d made to become whatever it was Pepper wanted, destroying his suits and changing his priorities and amending his personality, because he thought, maybe, she could love him. He thought of every kindness he’d ever shown, every effort he’d ever made, every sacrifice, all in the hope that he could, one day, be enough for someone to put him first. He’d done all that, and the world had sighed and crossed it’s arms like a weary American Idol Judge and huffed

                _I’m sorry, you just don’t have it._

 

It’s just you, Tony Stark.

 

He let out a shaky breath, and warned himself not to cry. He told himself to stop thinking about it, like that ever made a difference.

 

_Just not going to get dressed today?_

 

His face flushed, traitorously. He _wanted_ to cry. He wanted to fall to his knees and sob. He thought of all those little moments between them, those smiling, teasing, friendly moments… he’d thought they’d meant something. He was such an idiot. Those ‘moments’ were just the way Steve talked, to other people. The way he’d even talked to Tony, sometimes. That’s the sort of thing Captain America would do, isn’t it? He’d even smile at the guy no one liked, sometimes.

 

Tony looked out over the horizon, the sky melting from orange to blue in front of his eyes. Night fell _fast_ in Wakanda. In less than ten minutes the sky would be entirely black, and that marvellous sunset would just vanish. All the colour and light would just go from a world that had just been so bright and alive… it felt fitting. He looked at the city skyline, now silhouetted black against the twilight, a single, jagged shape in the distance. He thought, _why me?_ He thought, _what is it, if its not even the things I’ve done wrong?_ He thought,

 

_Wait, shouldn’t there be lights on in the city?_

 

He sat up, suddenly, tears temporarily forgotten. He saw what was right in front of him, ominous and significant and monstrous. The whole city was in darkness.

 

_This can’t be good._

 

*

 

“Well, in one respect, this is good” Shuri told him, stoically.

 

Her lab had already been alive with activity when Tony got back, full of people, the familiar readings replaced with emergency information. Shuri had been standing with a group of people, delegating and organising, when he walked in. She looked over to him immediately, came straight over to him and pulled him to one side. Tony felt his throat tighten. This must be bad, and it must be to do with him. _Of course it was to do with him._

 

“Yeah, lets start with that” Tony sighed, “in what respect is this good?”

“When the surge happened, there were still tests in progress and a lot of equipment still running.” She explained “This means we actually have a full data set. We’ve inadvertently run a fully recorded simulation” She waved a desk of holograms into life between her and Tony, simply to illustrate just how much information they had. It was too densely packed to read.

“Does it tell us anything?” Tony asked, glancing at it. When he looked back at Shuri he saw genuine sympathy in her eyes.

 

“That’s where it stops being so good.”

 

*

 

Wakanda learns fast.

 

The first few power cuts had taken them by surprise. They’d probably disrupted things _more_ than they would in other places. But by now, they had this thing down. This time, everyone just waited calmly while the City Officials went door-to-door with pre-charged torches and pocket generators. Within an hour, business was continuing as usual, just under a romantic, orange glow.

 

Which meant, really, there was nothing for Steve to do. But he’d gone into the city anyway, to see if he could help. Which was probably what Captain America would do-

 

_Gives a fuck what Captain America would do._

 

Tony had been back a day. But, already, Steve was slipping out of himself, not playing the right role, not knowing what it was, _not even caring_. Tony always did this to him, it had always thrown him. Those moments, those conversations, those whole days when Steve forgot to think about it at all. The times he’d find himself coming to his senses, like he’d caught himself daydreaming in class, and have to check if he’d done anything UnCaptainLike while he wasn’t paying attention.

 

_But that was before_

 

Except, it wasn’t. It turned out, it was just that Tony hadn’t been here. That’s all it was. Tony hadn’t been here in all the months Steve had been Being Captain America, there hadn’t been a chance for him to disrupt Steve’s distance and denial. Steve had spent six months putting this thing into boxes, shutting bits down and cutting them off, writing it all into Captain America’s story.

 

Then Tony walked in. And just like that he was forgetting which one he was, feeling things none of them were allowed to feel-

 

Just, _feeling_ , at all.

 

He hadn’t come into the city because it was what Captain America would do. He’d come into the city because Steve Rogers was hurt, and angry, and embarrassed, and sad, and he’d just wanted to get away from the palace. He’d been glad of the excuse. Not that it mattered where he was. He barely knew where he was.

 

_Tell you what, why don’t you think about what you’d say to Wanda?_

 

And the truth was, Steve did know the answer to that. He just wasn’t allowed to say it. He wasn’t even allowed to think it, because it was human and involved and personal-

 

The truth was, he didn’t _care_ enough about Wanda to not know what to say to her.

 

Wanda was like everyone else in the world to Steve. Like Nat, and Sam, and Bruce and Clint and T’Challa. All of them, however different they were to each other, however spectacular they were to the rest of the world, however close he got to them, even – they were still part of the same thing. None of them had ever met Steve Rogers. None of them even knew the world he was from. They didn’t realise just how much they took for granted, just how many things were alien to him, just how much he had to translate in his head. They would never really _know_ him, never be able to share a life with him – he’d known that was all people, right from the start.

 

It was like being a teacher, castaway on an island full of teenagers. It wasn’t that he thought he was better than other people, just fundamentally different. Separate. He didn’t know _how_ to take an interest in their personal lives, share their priorities, worry what they thought of him. Of course he could be magnanimous and professional with Wanda, she was one of the kids he looked after. He never got hurt, or confused, or angry with anyone, because it would have been pointless and ridiculous. Like a teacher getting wound up because one of his students had been unreasonable. And he could become close to some of those people, he could become invested in their happiness, he could even have favourites – but it could only ever be him and them, never something independent between them.

 

But Tony wasn’t like everyone else. Tony was like the first grown up to walk on to that island. The first person who had been… not _like_ him, but… Real. The first person Steve had cared about impressing. The first person where it had mattered that he actually heard his point of view. The first person that Steve felt like he was talking to, rather than for. Steve fought with Tony and snapped at Tony and put his foot in it around Tony because he _cared_ , because he actually _wanted_ Tony to like him rather than just wanting to do the right thing. It didn’t matter to Steve whether Wanda ‘tends to fuck things up’. What Tony did mattered.

 

But none of the Steve’s were allowed to think that. It would’ve sounded too mean to Wanda, for a start. And it was an imperfect analogy. It gave the impression that he thought he knew more than other people, when – increasingly – the opposite was true.  

 

He remembered Bucky, falling from that train. The confusion of grief, denial _and_ bargaining, thinking surely there must be something he could do to stop it, to take it back. Feeling so powerless, feeling like such a failure, feeling such a sharp stab of injustice at how unfair the test had been. This was like watching it happen again in slow motion. The same desperate assurance that there _must_ be something he could do, this was simply too awful to happen. The same horrible, empty silence when he looked for the solution. What _could_ he say?

 

_You could have said something_ .

He flinched, again, at the thought. _I know_.

 

 _Well, if you know, why don’t you do_ _something about it?_

 

And he thought of that moment in the bunker. He could still see it, in perfect clarity. Tony’s face, glowing pale blue by the light of the television. The look in his eyes when he turned to Steve and asked, _did you know?_ That same hopeless, bottomless desperation he’d felt today on the veranda. He’d spent six months wishing to have that moment again, and the heavens had obliged, and he’d blown it. Like a recurring nightmare, the ending you never manage to change…

 

_Come back to me when you’ve thought of something to say, then_

… It wasn’t an outright no.

 

…It wasn’t ‘don’t come back’

 

…It wasn’t a good idea to get his hopes up like this.

 

But he couldn’t make things worse, now, could he? Well, no, things couldn’t be _quite_ that simple for him, could they? He could, potentially, get it so wrong that Tony left Wakanda immediately, and then Steve would have blown it for the whole nation. Would Tony ever do that? Surely, Tony couldn’t be _so_ hurt by an attempted apology that he’d leave? Yeah, maybe if Steve strayed into more controversial territory, if he mentioned The Accords, or Bucky…

 

…But if he just said he was sorry. If he _just_ said that part, that would be something. And there was obviously the chance that he’d say it all wrong, that he’d end up pushing Tony further away or hurting him even more… But was that really worse than saying nothing?

 

_Nothing could be worse than what just happened._

_Yeah, alright. I know._

…But then, maybe it was. Because the letter had apparently been worse than saying nothing. His face burned, trying to remember how Tony had worded it.

_I’m very sorry that you feel bad, because I feel bad for the pain of all people, even the bad guys. And I’m very sorry that the obviously right thing I was doing tore your life apart…which is nothing to do with me… you think you were right, you wish everything could be different, it’s up to me to see if I can understand. That’s on me._

 

Steve knew Tony was talking about the letter, and he’d known it immediately – because he’d thought so much about that stupid letter. He’d written _hundreds_ of versions, scribbled them out and screwed them up. He’d tried contrite, detached, defensive, begging. He’d tried long form, short form, formal, casual. He had literally been writing for _days._ In the end he’d driven himself mad with it. He’d found himself agonising over every detail, talking himself out of everything… and then he’d just snapped. Because he had to say _something_. Even if it wasn’t right, he’d thought it was better than nothing.

 

Until he sent it. The moment he sent it, he knew, it had been awful. Worse than nothing. All completely wrong.

 

And he’d been right about _that_ , apparently.

 

And there was that little kick of anger again. The sort of irrational, emotional response he didn’t have with anyone else – because he didn’t care, with anyone else. But he did care whether Tony knew he’d agonised over that letter. He was hurt, and angry, that Tony assumed it was how he really felt… just because it was what he’d said…

 

Oh, he was bad at this.

 

He was so busy spiralling, he didn’t even see T’Challa walk over to him.

“Captain?” He spoke gently. Steve jumped, internally.

“Hm? Oh, sorry” And he stood to attention “Is everything okay?” T’Challa gave him a sad smile, and Steve’s stomach dropped.

 

“I will be asking everyone to meet in Shuri’s lab tomorrow morning, so that we can all discuss this more fully. But, as it is of a somewhat personal nature, my sister thought it might be best if I talked to you privately, first.” He spoke calmly. Professionally. “And Mr Stark said he would prefer it this way.”

“Personal?” _Mr Stark?_

“It seems that the artefact is in fact being used to collect and transfer a very specific type of energy. To oversimplify it horribly, these abnormalities are happening because the system is being overloaded.”

“Right?” Steve pressed, feeling impatient now.

“The system is alien, and empathic in nature. Shuri believes that, whoever they are, it is the unhappiness of Mr Stark they are using as a power source.” T’Challa spoke like a surgeon delivering bad news. He left a second for Steve to process it.

“Aliens are using Tony’s unhappiness as a power source” He repeated in a dead tone.

“That appears to be the essence of it” T’Challa confirmed. “Shuri will be happy to talk you though the evidence tomorrow” As though any piece of evidence would make that make sense.

“All of this is happening…” Steve spoke slowly, looking around at the city without even seeing it “because Tony is so miserable?”

“I don’t know if it could quite be characterised like that…” T’Challa tried to reassure him. But it didn’t work.

 

The ground had shifted again.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony had been fitted with an electronic monitoring device once before. When he was 17, after a party at the summer house had gotten way, way out of hand. His father had been rather smug about the whole thing, actively encouraging the authorities to go further than a simple warning. The parents of every other spoilt brat in LA were hiring fancy lawyers to exonerate their precious little bastards, but no, Tony’s father had been set on teaching him a lesson. And Tony had been proportionately smug when, within the hour, he’d hacked the electronic bracelet and gone out to a strip club. He didn’t even like strip clubs – he just knew he wasn’t allowed to go to one.  

 

The bracelet Shuri was securing was a world away from the device that the LAPD had locked him into. Shuri’s was light, and discrete. Shuri’s wasn’t interested in whether Tony stayed home after 8pm. Shuri’s was designed to monitor how Tony was _feeling_. The device the LAPD had fitted him with was one of the first electronic monitoring devices – cumbersome, uncomfortable and ugly. Shuri’s felt heavier, somehow.

 

“Does it fit?” Shuri asked, when she was finally finished fussing with it. Tony nodded, pleased she hadn’t asked _is it comfortable?_ She just nodded back, and turned to her keyboard. Entering the final commands before this thing went live. Tony was almost expecting it to hurt.

 

It couldn’t literally translate what he was feeling. That’s what he kept telling himself. _At least, not yet._ There was an algorithm, obviously. It would learn. But for now, this programme could only distinguish the very basics. Were the empaths getting a positive reading. _Was he more happy than sad, right this second?_ He glanced down at the thin strand of Vibranium that would be able to announce to the world whether he was happy or sad – he wondered, did it know how he felt about that? He didn’t.

 

He saw Shuri’s eyes widen, just so. He hadn’t felt anything, but he knew. His very soul was now, in some way, connected to Shuri’s computer screen. That was a horrible feeling.

 

But what came next was worse.

 

It’s a scientific fact. Before you can measure anything, you have to establish the baseline. There was no point getting irate about it, it was just how it was. They had to set the parameters. They had to test that it worked.

 

He would have to be happy. He would have to be sad. He would have to be honest about it. This was just the start.

 

“Are you ready?” Shuri asked. And Tony thought, _no_. And then he nodded. “Okay, so, we think they’re interested in negative readings. Let’s start there.” _Think of something that makes you feel bad._

 

At least that part was easy. He thought of Steve telling him ‘ _I'm sorry Tony. You know I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice, but he was my friend’_

Shuri’s computer beeped, as quick as that. Input accepted. Tony felt violated.

 

“Okay” She had a professional smile “Good. So lets try a control reading.” _Think of something that makes you feel good_.

Oh, if only it were that easy. 

 

It was too early in the morning for Tony to feel happy. Shuri had suggested they get as much done as possible _before_ they had to gather everyone together and explain this horrible, creepy _thing_ -

 

Except that he was trying to come up with a control reading, which meant he really shouldn’t be thinking about that meeting right now. He shouldn’t be thinking about everyone that hurt him, gawking at the damage they caused. He shouldn’t be thinking about having all control, all right to decide how to play this, stripped away from him. He shouldn’t be thinking about everyone begrudgingly pretending to care, how he’d honestly rather they just carry on being nasty to him, how having to accept kindness under those circumstances would make him feel so cheap and used and dirty.

 

_That’s how it is now. Your emotions belong to everyone else. You aren’t allowed to think, you aren’t allowed to feel. Worse than that, you have to feel on demand._

 

Or that. Definitely wasn’t the time to think about that.

 

“Now, this must only represent a lower reading of…” Shuri began like a scientist, detached and formal. But as she trailed off a more human expression had entered her eyes “…We don’t have to keep calling it ‘misery’, you know” She finished, like a friend.

“I _was_ thinking melancholia had a more dramatic ring to it…” He joked, half-heartedly.

“Well, technically, we’re not looking for any of those things. Those things are human concepts, different for everyone – entirely unscientific. We’re looking for a specific, quantifiable output from you. We can name that whatever we like.” She was back in her scientist voice now, but Tony could see what she was doing. He smiled.

“Can we call it Dave?”

“So, for the control reading, you don’t have to feel anything specific. You don’t have to feel happy, or calm. You just have to feel less Dave.” And she delivered it so straight that Tony had to laugh.

 

Shuri made him feel less Dave. Just the fact that she existed. That she was sensitive enough to see the hurt that needed addressing here, kind enough to think it mattered. The simple reminder that some people are thoughtful, and confident, and smart. It gave him hope. And that made him think of Peter.

 

Peter wouldn’t have handled this as coolly as Shuri had. He’d have stammered, and said how sorry he felt for Tony, which would have been excruciating… and Tony felt himself smile. He knew exactly what Peter would do right now, and it made him smile. Because he _knew_ Peter would have tried. Peter would have known that people have feelings, he’d have cared whether he hurt them, he would have done his best to make it better. And then, no matter how scared or confused he was, Peter would have tried to help.

 

Peter and Shuri were just kids. They didn’t have the battle experience or the training of any of the Avengers. But they had the only qualities that mattered, the ones that Earths so-called Mightiest Heroes had tragically lacked. Steve was a Super-Soldier and Natasha was a Super-Assassin and Wanda was a Super Being, and none of it had been enough to save the day. But if any of them had the qualities that Peter and Shuri did, if any of them had just been empathetic enough to consider anyone’s perspectives but their own, none of this would have happened.

 

And Tony realised that he was completely, 100% certain that Peter would have told him about his parents. Peter, like all kids, made mistakes sometimes. Tony knew Peter had made a few bad calls for very human reasons. But, as much as Peter would have agonised over it, as badly as it may have come out, as much as Peter wanted to be the All-American Good Guy, Tony knew, Peter would have told him. Peter would have thought about Tony’s perspective without anyone having to tell him to. And that realisation made Tony feel very proud.

 

Shuri’s computer beeped. She smiled a scientist smile at the screen.

 

“Okay. We have a baseline” She informed him. “Now we just have to let it collect information.”

“So, in the meantime I just… try not to feel too Dave?” He asked, looking at the bracelet again.

“The information we have tells us that the artefact is most stable when you feel calmer, and happier, so in that respect, I advise you to avoid stress. As a representative of Wakanda. But I advise you do that anyway.” She gave him a kind look “For the sake of your heart, if nothing else.”

“Will… knowing, help?” He asked, carefully “Being able to read this, will you be able to stop the surges?”

“Well, if you’re happy for me to look at the results while they’re recording, it may help me to better plan our defences. Prepare for them, perhaps” She conceded, and Tony raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“You weren’t planning on watching them while they’re recording?”

“The ultimate aim of this experiment is to discover the true nature of the problem, and fix it. And if it can help us paper the cracks in the meantime, so much the better. But I would understand if you weren’t prepared to offer that much. You’re already doing us a great service.” She told him. And then, as though she could read his mind “I don’t see why anyone else would have to see these readings.”

 

Tony felt a sudden swelling in his chest, and his cheeks warmed with the beginnings of a blush. He was half expecting the computer to beep again.

 

“Thanks.” He smiled. “And, for the record, I don’t mind if you look at them. If it’s going to help.”

“Thank you” She answered, professionally. And then, in the same cool tone “Have you thought about how you want to explain this?”

“No.” Tony responded quickly. Shuri grinned at his candour “Is just not being there an option?” He’d meant it as a joke.

“If you’d prefer it.” Shuri agreed with a shrug. Tony blinked.

“Really?” He’d always taken for granted that he had to do the hard thing.

“What, you think there is something I’ll be unable to explain?” She challenged, playfully.

“Hell no” he laughed. “No, you go ahead, really.” Oh, he didn’t have to be there. He didn’t have to feel them all looking at him, didn’t have to suffer through some version of _you’ve made Tony feel very bad, now you have to be nice to him._

 

Oh, thank God.

 

*

 

Steve hadn’t expected to understand the scientific explanation of what was going on.

 

In almost every group on earth Steve would have been the smartest member – just not the group he chose to hang about with. Not by a long shot. Being an expert in intricate military strategy was in another, irrelevant league to a lot of the people he knew, now. Add to that the fact that he was still catching up on seventy years of scientific progress, and he obviously wasn’t going to follow the finer details of Shuri’s presentation.

 

But he’d understood enough.

 

Shuri still didn’t know who these empaths were. She still didn’t know how, exactly, they were doing it. She wasn’t sure of the precise nature of the energy they were harvesting. But she knew what the artefact was, the process it was a part of. She knew that the power surges happened when too much energy entered the system. It was definitely harvesting emotions as a source of power.

 

And it was definitely the sad emotions they were interested in. And it was specifically Tony Stark.

 

“So, the disruption is happening because Tony is _that_ miserable?” Steve asked before he thought about it. Because the question had been rolling around his head all night and he wanted so much to ask someone. And then he heard it out loud, and thought, no, that had sounded a bit raw…

“That I can’t say for sure, yet” Shuri informed him “I don’t have access to enough background information. It is possible there has been a fault with the system, for example, and that the same level of…unhappiness is now having a different effect. It may be something else entirely.”

 

Steve cast a glance at the others, sitting in a line to his left. It was easy enough to describe them all as uncomfortable. They were all looking at the floor, curled in just slightly like they were trying to make themselves smaller. Beyond that, it was hard to tell what any of them were thinking. Wanda was biting her bottom lip, her eyes glassy. Sam looked more confused than anything. Nat’s stare was focused on the middle distance, her hands flexing unconsciously as Shuri spoke.

 

“And, again, it’s oversimplifying it to call it ‘miserable’. It’s fair to say that it’s more negative emotions they are interested in. But we can’t be more specific than that before we have more information.” She paused, thoughtfully, before carefully adding “But, at this stage at least, it would seem that the calmer he is, the better.”

 

Steve knew it was his job to put that into some sort of structure. To work out what it meant, and what they needed to know, and what they had to do about it. To lead.

 

 _How much have I hurt him?_ Wasn’t the right question. No one was interested in the anxious, churning guilt he’d felt all night, it wasn’t anyone’s job to assuage it. _How do I fix this_? Wasn’t Shuri’s question to answer. There was no fixing it. _Is this all because of me?_ Was of no use to anyone.

 

“Do we know why they’ve chosen Tony?” Yes, that was a strategic question. Captain America would have said that.

“No.” Shuri told him, apologetically. “It’s a conductive system, so it’s more likely the system itself is selecting good candidate, rather than an individual choosing him. Think… electricity finding the quickest route to ground. But why he would be a good candidate, I can’t say. I don’t know how they came to find him, or what qualifies a person as a potential candidate – yet.”

 

_Aliens have selected Tony because he’s so miserable? More miserable than anyone on earth? Because of me? _

 

Translated into Captain America, that’s “You said you’ve been studying this thing for thirty years – has it always been him?”

“The best data we have for that is twenty three years old, but I’d say yes, it’s been Tony since then.”

_Did you just call him ‘Tony’?_

 

“So whatever it is about him, it’s been true for twenty three years?” _Does that mean it wasn’t me?_

“For whatever reason, he’s been the candidate for that long.” Shuri clarified.

 “But even now, he can’t be the most miserable person on _earth_ ” Nat spoke with an edge on her voice. “And what did he have to be miserable about twenty-three years ago?”

 

Steve felt a defensive stab when she said it, sharper than the usual feeling he got whenever someone – other than him – criticised Tony. But still, he knew to ignore it. That was a personal impulse and always had been. A fair leader didn’t take the side of the team member he liked. Steve had been learning that lesson, in increments, for a long time.

 

He’d had real relationships with people, once. Not just friendships, but real, reciprocal bonds. He’d formed them without knowing it, taken them for granted the way all people do. Then he’d woken up in an alien world, with no connection to anyone, no loyalties. He’d had to take everyone as he found them, he’d had to analyse everyone from scratch, assume nothing. He’d had no favourites then. He couldn’t defend anyone because he liked them, or trusted them, or knew from experience – he didn’t know anything, then. He just defended those that couldn’t defend themselves, whoever they were. That had never been Tony.

 

And even if, after while, that urge to treat Tony differently had grown, and that resistance to it had faded… Zemo had ruined that.

 

The thing with Bucky had ruined that.

 

And how? Because he put Bucky first. Even keeping the stupid secret in the first place had been about putting Bucky first. He’d defended Bucky on a personal level. And he’d been able to do it for Bucky because Bucky was the one person in existence that _did_ know him before Captain America. The one person he didn’t have to think how to be Steve with. Even with Tony, he’d had to _learn_ how to be Steve with him – but Bucky _remembered._ Bucky knew him, which meant he didn’t have to know himself so hard, he didn’t have to figure out what he should have felt or done or wanted. Bucky _knew_. And when he was there Steve felt like he just _knew_ something again. Steve had spent years at that point, coming up with labels and structures and rules for the modern world. But he couldn’t slot Bucky into any of those. He’d reverted to what Bucky had been before. And look what had happened.

 

_That shield doesn't belong to you. You don't deserve it! My father made that shield!_

 

But it wasn’t Captain America that he’d abandoned in that bunker. The shield didn’t make him Captain America. The shield had always been a symbol of the team he’d been a part of. The shield that Howard made, as an ally. The shield that had been part of his uniform, as a Howling Commando. The shield that had been part of The Avengers arsenal. The shield had _never_ belonged to just him. But, until that moment, he’d belonged to something. Up until that moment there had still been some remnant of Steve Rogers, the place he went when he forgot himself around Tony, the thing he was for a few minutes at a time when he hung out with the team. That’s what he’d abandoned when he dropped that shield - any right to personal bonds, or emotional mistakes, or anything other than Captain America.

 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about” Wanda said suddenly. Gravely. Everyone snapped to look at her, shocked. She didn’t acknowledge them, just talked straight to the floor. “You have no idea how he feels, none of us have ever known, none of us get to say that.” There was a long, awkward silence.

“…Do you, know what he’s feeling?” Steve braved, eventually. Wanda shook her head.

“No. I just know I’ve never known.” She said ominously. Steve glanced at Natasha, her face slightly flushed.

 

“So the plan is we just keep Tony calm forever?” Nat went on, pointedly, after a beat. Steve felt his shoulders tense.

“The plan is to sever this link” Shuri answered bluntly “Obviously, this process is dangerous for Wakanda, and the effects are getting worse each time. I intend to stop that from happening. In the meantime, yes, disruptions will be less likely if he is calm.”

 

A non-physical shudder went through the room as they each processed it in their own way.

 

_Well, so much for trying to apologise_

 

Steve wondered, bitterly, if he had always been part of a twisted reality show. If, after twenty years of watching a sick kid get the shit kicked out of him, someone behind the scenes had decided to step up the drama. Maybe, after giving him the Super Serum Ultimatum and sending him to war and killing his best friend and freezing him for seventy years and setting aliens on him and deciding SHIELD was Hydra and deciding Bucky wasn’t dead after all and deciding Bucky was a secret assassin that had killed Tony’s parents, they were having to go to desperate lengths to come up with new twists. New ways to torment him. New ways to test if he would crack – which meant finding new ways to punish him for cracking. Because now it _really_ didn’t matter what Steve felt. Now it actually, literally might be the end of the world if he was real with Tony, even for a second. Steve found it hard to believe something that perfectly awful had happened by accident. Surely, someone, somewhere, was screwing with him?

 

_Oh, Tony, I’m sorry_

 

But it really didn’t matter now. The difficult conversation wasn’t an option anymore. It wasn’t Steve’s guilt or grief threatening to level Wakanda. There wasn’t time to deal with any of it, it wasn’t about that.

 

*

 

Tony had left Shuri’s lab half an hour before the others were due to be there, just to be sure that he wouldn’t bump into any of them. And the second the door closed behind him, he had a shocking revelation

 

He had nothing to do.

 

After months of solid work, and years of scheduled time, Tony was finally entirely at his leisure. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

 

He didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

But he knew he couldn’t just wander around the palace, moping and running the risk of bumping into one of the Shadow Avengers. He also knew that he wasn’t going to think of anything _fun_ to do. He couldn’t think too much about it, because thinking about it made him uncomfortable and suddenly that was everyone’s business, but he instinctively knew that he wasn’t going to be _happy_ today. Truth be told, he didn’t want to be – not like this. Skipping to the end. Cheating. He didn’t want to convince _himself_ that he’d forgiven Steve, or made peace with what happened, or that his life really wasn’t that bad. Maybe he felt like that was Steve’s job, like he was letting Steve off or letting himself down if he settled for less. He didn’t really know because he wasn’t allowed to think about it.

 

But he didn’t have to be happy today. He just had to be less… Dave. He just had to distract himself. Try to focus on the little pleasures without trying to convince himself they mattered. If he didn’t try to convince himself that life wasn’t so bad, he wouldn’t have to think about the wider context. He could just spend the day wandering around Wakanda. If he didn’t think about it too hard that might be…okay. That wouldn’t make him any _more_ miserable, at least.

 

And, for a good few hours, it had kind of worked. Even the most mundane things in Wakanda fascinated him, tempted him to examine and wonder and ask. If anyone in Wakanda was surprised to find a white man enquiring about their key-card system, Tony didn’t notice. But then, Tony was used to people reacting to him. Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark, child genius become teenage protégé become international entrepreneur become Iron man, had never known any different. Everyone Tony had _ever_ met had already heard of him, already been told specifically what to expect. Let’s see if this kid is as smart as everyone says he is, I wonder if this guy really is a prick, I bet he’s just like his dad. If anyone in Wakanda was suspicious of him, well, wasn’t everyone? The only reaction Tony _did_ notice was a friendly one, the people who seemed amused by his interest and happy to chat. For most of the day, he’d contented himself with that.

 

But mental focus like that is exhausting. Eventually even the subconscious effort he was making became too heavy. He became more aware of things he was trying not to think about, until he felt like he actually wanted to worry, like it would be a relief. He’d intended to just go back to the palace. Call it a day, maybe try to fall asleep. Sleep seemed the safest option. But when the emotional effort caught up with him so did the physical exertion. He realised, all of a sudden, that he’d been walking for _hours_. He noticed his legs were aching, as though they had been for a long time.

 

He went into the bar for the sake of somewhere to sit down, that was all. He was going to sit there until his feet stopped throbbing, then he was going to go back. But then he slipped into a particularly comfortable stare, a pleasant state of numbed tiredness. The words started sliding though the fog.

 

_The worst thing will be when they see how much they’ve hurt me, and they still don’t care._

 

He had, embarrassingly, spend a few particularly self-pitying evenings imagining what would have happened if this whole thing had actually killed him. If he hadn’t managed to stop Bucky from shooting him in the face after he first got arrested. If, when Lang had been pulling wires in his suit, he’d just dropped from the sky like a stone. If it had been him instead of Rhodey. If, when Steve had struck him with that Shield, he’d just _died_. He’d wondered, would any of them have been sorry then? Would _that_ have shown them how irresponsible and unkind they’d all been? The worst part was always realising that, no, probably not.

 

It would have shown _him_. If he’d actually managed to kill Bucky or Steve in that bunker, he’d have been very sorry. He’d have felt even more guilty for it, if he thought his take on the whole thing mattered to anyone. But he was quite sure Steve hadn’t even stopped to wonder what was going through Tony’s mind when it happened. He sometimes thought… which was stupid, for so many reasons, but still… he sometimes thought, if he did apologise to Steve for that, the worst possible response would have been something along the lines of ‘hm? Oh, don’t worry about it, Bucky’s fine.’

 

Why would that be worse? But it was.

 

Out of nowhere, a bottle appeared on the table in front of him. Tony snapped out of his trace and looked up at the man that had delivered it. An older man, Tony would have guessed about sixty, but with a much more youthful smile.

“I didn’t-” Tony began, but the man waved him quiet, graciously.

“You are a guest in Wakanda.” He said, “Which makes us all your host. And no good host could stand by with such an unhappy guest in their home” And with that he sank into the seat opposite Tony, and poured each of them a drink. Tony grinned.

 

Oh well, why not?

 

*

 

Steve was really very glad that the fate of the world didn’t rest on _him_ not being miserable.

 

He’d just spent the longest day of his life, wandering aimlessly around the palace and wondering what to be miserable about first. Unfortunately, the right thing to do had been obvious. He had to avoid Tony, he didn’t need anyone to tell him that. After all that analysis, he should at least be pleased the right answer was simple. There was no need to balance short term pain against long term benefit, no need to ask whether upsetting Tony or risking an argument was worth it. No, it wasn’t. It would endanger the whole of Wakanda. It had taken him all of ten minutes to reach that conclusion. And he actually wished it had taken him longer.

 

He couldn’t even fill the day wondering what to do. He couldn’t debate anything, work anything out. The only things to think about were how badly he’d screwed things up, how many things he’d like to do but couldn’t, all the things he could never have. Endlessly listing them, looping them, all day.

 

He was doing yet another circuit of the lower floor, about to pass mindlessly through that reception room for perhaps the hundredth time.

 

But there was Tony. And everything stopped.

 

Steve _knew_ he was meant to keep walking. But that was Tony. That was the exact way Tony walked, the exact shape of his body. And then Steve had hesitated, and the Tony had seen him.

 

“Hi Steve” Tony announced, just a bit too loud. Friendly. And there was the briefest, brightest flash of hope in Steve. The split second he heard the warmth in it, just before he could ask himself _is he-_

 

And then he realised. Oh. For a man he didn’t understand at all, he knew him so well.

 

“You’re drunk.” Steve spoke before he could stop himself, before he could consider his tone. He knew he’d sounded judgemental, combative, everything he was supposed to be avoiding. He would have corrected himself.

 

But, as it happened, Tony was at just the right stage of drunk. He felt looser, freer, less vulnerable to the world, but the depressive affects hadn’t kicked in yet. That sweet spot, between uninhibited and antagonistic. One drink earlier and Tony would have been too aware, he would have hesitated. One drink later and he probably would have just told Steve to fuck off. But as it was.

“Yeah, but you aren’t allowed to be all pissy about it” He sang, “ _You’ve_ got to indulge me, or the world will end” Tony sounded smug, victorious. And Steve’s skin tightened, because Tony was right. And, suddenly, Tony was as infuriating as he’d ever been. It might have been something to do with the hurt of dashed hopes, but Steve had never wanted to shout at him more than he did right now – and he couldn’t. And Tony knew it. And he was right.

 

Steve let go of a slow breath. He saw Tony smirk.

 

“And, actually, you shouldn’t be getting pissy with me anyway” Tony carried on, his voice warm and fluid, not quite slurring yet. “Like, usually, I know why you’d be angry at me for being drunk, and you wouldn’t be allowed to be angry in case you upset me. But I don’t know why you’re angry at me now, because for the first time ever, being drunk is actually what I’m supposed to do.” He dropped into a lounge chair, theatrically “ _This_ is me being responsible!”

“Is this making you happy, Tony?” Steve’s voice was stiff and awkward – his best effort to not sound outright furious. Tony just chuckled.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He smiled, “The fate of the world might depend on you just _going with it_ , just pretending to actually be okay with this for like, five minutes, but you just can’t drop it.” He spoke as though he really did find it funny. Steve was trying to think of something, anything, he could say, when Tony leant forward.

 

“Here’s a thought.” He swayed just slightly, but his voice didn’t waver. He held Steve’s eye with the shameless confidence of a drunk “The world you are trying to save right now is the one Bucky is on, you ever think about that?” He stared Steve down, accusingly.

“You want to talk about Bucky?” Steve tried to make his voice lighter, even though it clearly didn’t fit. He was flying blind now. He couldn’t say what he really thought, he didn’t know what he was meant to think. He didn’t know which way to steer this. It was worse than trying to negotiate with a man with a bomb – it was like trying to negotiate _with_ a bomb. While you were furious.

“I just mean, that if someone said you had to be nice to me to save Bucky’s life, you’d do it. If someone said you had to _fuck_ me to save Bucky’s life, you would – how about, instead of wondering whether your integrity is more important than the fate of the world, you think of whether it’s more important than _Bucky?_ Cos I guess that the first question is a hard one, right? Your integrity being as important as it is, it must be like, my principles, the whole world” He mimicked scales with his hand, raising the left, then the right, to demonstrate. “But you can do it for _Bucky_ , right?” He narrowed his eyes at Steve.

 

Steve swore he could taste blood. He was so outraged by everything Tony had just said, so overwhelmed by the sheer number of things he wanted to say back, so incredulous that he wasn’t allowed to say any of it -

 

And then he swallowed it.

 

It wasn’t his principles he was putting aside here – it was his feelings. Steve could do that. Steve had only ever done that. He wanted to have his say, sure, but he wanted a lot of things. It had never mattered. It was easy, to stop thinking of himself as a person, to disregard his pride and his place in all of this. If he set aside what he felt about Tony, what he wanted, if he just thought of Tony as an enemy to be placated or a threat to be disabled… a drunk man with a gun, a suicidal man at the edge of a cliff…

 

He sighed.

 

“So what can I do to make you happy, Tony?” His tone was cool now, like a councillor or a police officer. Not great, but better.

 

There was a warm trickle through Tony’s body when Steve said it. A smile washed over him, and it felt good. He indulged in the sound of it – he was drunk enough for that. He was drunk enough to forget all the social complications and the history and the politics. To skip straight to thoughts of all the things that Steve could have done to make him happy…

 

The right level of drunk will let you look at certain things directly. The right level of drunk will erase the bits in between, the complex thought and the defence mechanisms. At exactly this drunk, Tony could just look at the shape of Steve’s arms, imagine the soft skin of Steve’s stomach, without thinking too much about whether he should be doing it.

                _What can I do to make you happy, Tony?_

 

Hm.

 

But he wasn’t quite drunk enough to say it. Just drunk enough for a lascivious smile. A smile brief enough that it could have been a joke or a drunken challenge, or maybe it never happened at all.

 

At this level of drunk, the power trip was enough for him.

 

“Nothing.” He told him, with a smile. And then he made a point of staring Steve down, until Steve surrendered and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Sexual Content (don't get your hopes up)

Steve had no idea how he’d made it back to his room.

 

When he got there he barely recognised it. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that he was in it. He wanted to leave as soon as he got there – but to go where? How could he get out of his own skin? He felt like he was full of static electricity, he was just so, so-

 

Whatever it was, he wanted to take all of that morally restrained strength and put it into one almighty punch into the wall. He felt like he could have brought the building down. He felt like he would have _liked_ to watch it crumble.

 

He was mad at Tony. He was sure of that. He was _furious_ at Tony. He felt the rage before he’d processed the conversation, before he’d worked out why he was feeling it. Assuming he was entitled to it. Because, God Tony, you just can’t be – you won’t let – you’re just so –

 

_You’re drunk_

 

And, unfortunately, Steve remembered it in the exact tone he’d used. Distant and disappointed. _Oh, why the hell did you say that? _And then he was lost, again, not sure whether to keep being angry at Tony or start being angry at himself.

 

He hadn’t even meant it like _that_.

 

He wasn’t disappointed in Tony for being drunk. He _didn’t_ judge Tony for drinking, today or in general. Tony just assumed he did, because Steve _couldn’t_ get drunk. Because every time Tony had ever had a drink in front of him, _Tony_ had felt insecure about it, Tony got defensive about it. See, this, _this_ , was why he was annoyed at Tony. Because Tony _still_ saw Steve as Captain America, still just _assumed_ that he’d walk into any party as a moralistic kill joy. Tony put that on Steve. He always put all his insecurities on Steve, always assumed Steve was thinking all the bad things he thought about himself. Tony never seemed to think that Steve could see the difference. Tony _never_ thought that maybe Steve had no problem with the way Tony drank 99% of the time, that he might wish he could join in, that he _liked_ it when Tony drank, sometimes.  

 

_And that’s why you sounded so disappointed._

 

Oh yeah, back to being angry with himself. And mortified. Firstly, for the fact that he liked it when Tony drank, sometimes. That was one of the bad thoughts, and it had snuck up on him, but he knew what he’d done. What he r _eally_ meant. He had accidentally acknowledged that warm feeling he got when Tony was a little bit tipsy, that strange urge to smile around him when he was all chatty and playful. It wasn’t very _nice_ , was it, to think Tony was sexy when he was a little bit drunk? It probably wasn’t… appropriate. And, yeah, maybe that had made him a little bit uncomfortable, _occasionally_. Once or twice, he might have found himself aware of that reaction, and maybe he’d been a bit awkward. Felt a bit like he was watching a sex scene with his parents in the room. It really wasn’t because he hated or judged what he was seeing – he just didn’t know what to do with his face… But if Tony had got fixated on those few times, it had been because Tony was sensitive about it. Discounted all the times Steve hadn’t minded at all. Assumed it could _only_ be because he was judging him.

 

He’d never think that Steve might have been disappointed for another reason entirely. That he might have heard something warm and friendly in Tony’s voice, and just been so dejected to realise it wasn’t real. That, maybe, that particular tone had done something to him, reminded him of something, made him _feel_ something other than whatever Tony had already decided it was…

 

_If someone said you had to fuck me to save Bucky’s life, you would_

 

 _I would fuck you anyway_.

 

Steve literally flinched, alone in his room, at that thought. It was just so crass, so inappropriate, so… not the time and place.

 

It would never be the time and place.

 

Sex had nothing to do with Steve, not anymore. Sex was just one of the many things he had to file away, disregard and move past. There was just no way to make it fit with everything that had happened, everything he had to do…

 

Sex had never been an easy topic, even back when he did sort of assume it’d happen at some point. He’d soon realised that he wasn’t the sort of guy that girls were attracted to. He soon realised that he was attracted to men as well as women – which, in 1940s America, wasn’t exactly clear-cut. But, at least back when Steve was just a skinny kid from Brooklyn, it was his problem to think about. It was relevant, back then. _That_ Steve could have a bad date with a girl, obsess over how to propose to her, even fumble his way through a flirtation with a guy. That Steve wouldn’t have been shattering any illusions while he picked his way through all that.

 

But now….

 

Maybe it was when he took the serum. Maybe that’s when he started to feel obligated to an idea. Captain America was something separate to him, something more important than him. Captain America didn’t forget what to say around pretty girls – or get arrested for misreading the signs from pretty guys. Captain America had more important things to be thinking about, anyway. Maybe that’s when Captain America became more important than being Steve, when he started thinking about what Captain America would do before he let himself feel anything.

 

And then he had woken up in the 21st Century… He’d thought back, way back, to how he’d once imagined himself falling in love, and he didn’t know if it even made sense in this world. If it was even possible, if it was politically correct, if it was socially acceptable anymore. He couldn’t imagine it anymore.

 

The only way to make sense of his life now was to think of himself as Captain America. And Captain America didn’t put his foot in it by using a 1940s line on a 21st century woman. Captain America didn’t get the gay rights movement all wrong and overstep the mark.

 

Captain America did _not_ get hot at the memory of Tony Stark saying ‘If someone said you had to _fuck_ me to save Bucky’s life, you would’

 

Captain America would not be hard right now.

 

Steve balled his hands into fists and forced himself to take a long, slow breath. He absolutely would _not_ touch himself, even though no one would ever know. He would know. And Steve hated himself right now. He was deeply ashamed and a little bit frightened that he should be feeling like this, about Tony of all people, right now of all times.

 

This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

 

Everything he felt about Tony was wrong, it always had been. Tony brought out the worst in him, _created_ bad qualities in him that Steve was sure hadn’t been there before. Tony could make Steve feel jealous, or insecure, or defensive, things Captain America wouldn’t feel. Tony could inspire a particular longing in Steve – something Captain America _definitely_ didn’t feel.

 

Captain America didn’t have conversations like _that_. He should have been diplomatic and detached, he should have thought about what he was trying to achieve. Or, at the very least he should _just_ be angry-

 

_It shouldn’t have felt like that._

 

It shouldn’t have been combative and spikey in the first place. He should never have been competing, reacting, _hurting_ , the way he had. He shouldn’t have been drawn into it.

 

But he really shouldn’t have enjoyed it. On any level.

 

It really shouldn’t have been exhilarating. He shouldn’t have noticed that smile. It shouldn’t have made him feel hot like that. Nothing should make Captain America feel hot like _that_. If Captain America was ever, hypothetically, to have sex, it would not be like that. Complicated, and angry, and _desperate,_ and, oh God-

 

If he _could_ have grabbed Tony then, climbed on top of him, pushed him _hard_ against the chair and-

 

_There is nothing you could do to make him happy_

 

Oh, he was _devastated_. And he didn’t understand how he could be that miserable, and not _just_ be miserable. How that conversation could possibly have been more than one thing, made him feel so many different ways. How he could make room for any level of excitement when he was also that unhappy. How he could be so remorseful and so angry at once.

 

But, now that he thought about it, a lot of his anger was probably _because_ Tony had made him feel that miserable. An instant, animalistic instinct. He’d felt wounded, like Tony had physically struck him, and some part of him had just reacted. Now, he _tried_ to think what else Tony had said to him. All the things that had angered him at the time, things he might have more right to be annoyed over… Bucky, and integrity, and drinking… that _wasn’t_ what he was angry over though, was it? At least, not right now. Right now, he was angry because he was hurt. And he’d been hurt by something that he had absolutely, undeniably deserved.

 

_What can I do to make you happy, Tony?_

_Nothing._

 

He had no right whatsoever to expect any other answer.

 

*

 

Tony always worried when he wasn’t woken by an alarm. Waking up naturally usually meant he’d either managed to oversleep, or he’d been knocked out.

 

Oh, no, wait. He was in Wakanda. That was okay.

 

Even the sleepy, creeping regret was okay, because Tony was used to that. Tony had woken up worried he was in trouble pretty much every morning since he was six. And, usually, when he thought about it, he remembered there was nothing… except, obviously, the mornings where there had been something…

 

His whole being seemed to sink as he remembered; he’d talked to Steve.

 

He didn’t have to remember what he’d actually said to Steve. He’d get to that in a minute. For now, just knowing that he’d _done_ something was enough. That was never a good start. Oh, and he’d had a drink. Great.

 

This would normally be where the self-flagellation started. He would usually start punishing himself before he worked out the crime, deliberately looking for the worst possible interpretations, because that’s what he deserved. Then came feeling defensive, then came feeling guilty for feeling defensive. That was the pattern.

 

But, usually, his misery wasn’t being used to threaten a nation.

 

Well, wasn’t this an interesting ethical conundrum. It was obviously true that, ordinarily, a good person would examine themselves critically and feel appropriately guilty for their mistakes. Ordinarily, feeling good after being a bastard, was bad. But, on this occasion, being selfless was actually being selfish.

 

Hm.

 

There was a reason Tony always woke up and wondered whether he was in trouble. It had always been the default, the general assumption, for so long that he really couldn’t remember if he’d ever deserved it. He couldn’t remember anything he’d broken or ruined when he was a toddler – but he remembered being asked ‘What’ve you done?’ by suspicious adults by then. All his life, people had been anxious on his behalf, poised for him to fuck it up. Even the people who cared about him – and, now that he wasn’t feeling quite so self-pitying, he did accept there were some of those – but even they had all started the relationship with ‘I won’t be taking any of your bullshit’. Or words to that effect. Pepper always trying to keep a handle on his lifestyle, Rhodey always asking what he was doing with his life. Even Fury. Tony knew Fury still thought he’d put Tony in his place, that he’d gotten the best out of Tony by dropping the softly-softly approach. Who, Tony wondered, did Nick think had _ever_ taken the softly-softly approach? Ranting and lecturing were the only ways anyone had ever tried to motivate him. Everyone agreed, constant monitoring and picking were required.

 

Tony had never had to go in cold. It was always assumed by everyone, even him, that he was _ultimately_ in the wrong, or at the very least he was a prick, even if he’d been right this time. Tony knew how to convince himself he wasn’t _that_ bad. Tony knew how to convince himself that he might be a bastard, but he was right, damn it. Tony knew how to tell himself it was fine, he’d learn, he’d be better next time. But just waking up and assuming he was …okay?

 

Okay. He’d give it a go.

 

And, actually, he didn’t know why he _was_ anxious for drinking, this time. He hadn’t even been _drunk_. He wasn’t working – for the first time in _months,_ if anyone cared – and he was _supposed_ to be having a good time, and he’d stopped in a bar and he’d had a drink. He hadn’t been doing it to block out the pain, he hadn’t been doing it to try and get to sleep, he hadn’t carried on doing it after the buzz wore off. He’d actually _enjoyed_ having a drink, for once. He’d spent a few hours enjoying the harmless company of a man named Thandiwe and he’d tried a Wakandan cocktail. So what?

 

He hadn’t even felt bad about it until Steve. And, thinking back, Tony really _didn’t_ know why Steve had been so upset… well, at least right off the bat. Steve had never been especially salty about Tony having a drink, per se – occasionally, Tony had even enjoyed having a drink with Steve. And _then_ , yeah, there was always the chance that Tony would say or do something, he never knew what, and Steve would suddenly turn cold on him and leave him feeling all anxious and ashamed and tipsy, all on his own… But he usually had to do _something_ first.

 

But that was Steve all over, wasn’t it? There was literally no way to please the man… or, at least there wasn’t for Tony, specifically. Tony had spent years trying to work out how he ruined things. Trying to figure out how he ended those warm, human moments between them, so that he could maybe keep them next time… and then Steve judges him before he can do a thing. Just to make clear, there is no right answer.

 

Steve had judged him for not being a team player, for not telling them about Ultron, for not being responsible. So, Tony had signed The Accords, and Steve looked at him like he couldn’t believe he’d done it. Was that not right? Steve had judged him for not forgiving Wanda, for not being able to accept she was one of the team. So, Tony had gone out of his way to protect her after Laos, made a conscious effort to mould the accords in her favour. Nope, not right either. Nothing he ever did would be right.

 

It didn’t matter whether he had a drink or not, did it?  

 

_Except that you talked to Steve_

 

Oh yeah. That part of it. And, oh, maybe he _had_ said a few things he might not have said, if he’d been completely sober.

 

_If someone said you had to fuck me to save Bucky’s life, you would_

 

Yeah, that hadn’t been the most helpful way to phrase it, had it?

 

Although…

 

He might not have worded it like that, in an ideal world. But he was sort of pleased he’d said it. Obscene language aside, there was an actual point in that. In fact, thinking back over the whole exchange… He was sort of pleased he’d said a lot of it.

 

He was sort of pleased that Steve had been so hurt.

 

Now, this was a real ethical challenge. The fate of the world depends on him being happy, in the simplest, most immediate terms. Is it ever right to revel on the pain you’ve caused another person? Did that mean it had been okay, that he’d revelled in it last night…?

 

Oh, no.

 

He _had_ rather revelled in it last night, hadn’t he? There was no defending against the memory of himself, vindicated and victorious, after that exchange. Feeling alive and awake and oddly relieved. A little bit drunk. Remembering that final blow

 

_What can I do to make you happy, Tony?_

_Nothing_

 

How naturally it had all changed in his fluid mind.

 

_What can I do to make you happy, Tony?_

And the thoughts that sprang up in his head weren’t of what Steve could do to make him happy. Oddly, as Tony had fallen into his bed, it had been thoughts of what he could do to make Steve happy… How easily that idea had occurred to him, how compelling it was, right away. How quickly he’d found himself picturing Steve here on this mattress, meaning it when he asked _What can I do to make you happy, Tony?_ And Tony could have said, nothing. Just lie there, and do nothing, just let me… Let me touch that beautiful skin, let me see if I can make you like it, let me make you feel good… Tony remembered, he’d actually whispered Steve’s name when he came. Oh, God, that was… awful. That confused every conclusion he’d just pointedly come to about Steve.

 

_And you’re wearing an electric monitoring device._

 

Tony felt his stomach clench. Oh, God, no… oh, he couldn’t think about that, no good would come of him being _that_ uncomfortable. _That isn’t how the bracelet works_ he reminded himself, helplessly

 

_Shut up, I don’t want to think about it._

 

_Oh, if there is a God in heaven, please let that not have caused a power surge, or an unusual reading, or anything else I might actually have to explain._

He didn’t even know if he’d have been able to explain it. He didn’t know if he’d been happy or sad or angry or righteous for _any_ of that. God knows, Tony could be hard and angry over Steve at the same time. He could think very romantic thoughts when he was miserable, apparently.

 

This was horrible, confusing and shaming and… he’d missed this.

 

Even the very worst parts of it. Tony had missed being part of this, however toxic it was. He’d missed Steve being part of the present. When Steve left, it was like everything stopped. All his hurt felt pointless, because there had been nowhere for it to go, nothing that could happen about it. Steve had been the story of his life for so long, and it had just ended with all these unanswered questions, and Tony could never quite believe there wasn’t going to be another chapter. That there really was no reason to think about it anymore, no point to having an opinion on what happened. That’s why Tony could never decide to walk away from it. That’s why Tony hadn’t _wanted_ to get over it. He had never wanted the future where he’d moved on from Steve, he’d never wanted to have the clever last word or the better life in the end – because if he wasn’t talking to Steve, who would it have been for? Who else did he care about impressing? And, even now, he liked there being another chapter to think about, another exchange to plan for – a reason to keep going.

 

He wasn’t allowed to think about that. Because if he got into all the reasons it had to be the end, all the arguments for why he had to talk away, he’d be too unhappy. And right now, that wasn’t an option.

 

Right now, actually, he just wasn’t going to think at all.

 

*

 

“I’ve got an idea” Were the first words out of Shuri’s mouth when Tony walked into her lab that day.

 

“Good morning Shuri, how are you” He mocked her enthusiasm playfully.

“Like someone who has an idea, would you like to hear it?” She had obviously been waiting for him to wake up so she could tell him. He walked over to her, at one of the many screens, and waited “I think I can disconnect you from the system, temporarily”

“Temporarily?” He frowned, still looking at her working “You mean from the system completely?”

“I think we were right, I think it _is_ a cyclical thing – I’m almost sure you weren’t just selected, once, twenty years ago. This thing regularly scans and reselects you”

“Right.” Tony nodded, because they’d discussed that part of the theory already

“And I’m pretty sure that, immediately after the surges, you’re offline. It has to reboot and re-find you afterwards”

“Okay…” Tony wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. But then, he didn’t like the sound of any of it. “And you think you can interrupt that process?”

“Not yet, although I’m looking into that possibility.” She told him “But, I’m thinking I could manufacture that scenario”

“Manufacture a power surge?”

“Convince the system it had one” She corrected “Which, if I’m right, would mean the link would be temporarily severed.”

“For how long?”

“A few minutes, probably” She answered, apologetically “ _But_ , if we could collect some live readings when it happened, I might be able to work out precisely how the process of disconnection and reconnection occurs. _Then_ , I might be able to work out how to interrupt it.”

 

Tony looked at the screen again, oddly comforted by the clinical research. Shuri waited while he found her reasoning. Then he smiled. _Clever girl._

“So what do you need me to do?” Because, obviously, he’d have to do something.

 

“We’ll need to go to the site,” She began efficiently “I’ll need you there… either Wanda or Vision… and one other person, preferably someone Wanda or Vision also know.”

“I’ll take Vision” Tony answered, quickly. And then “…Wait, why one of them?”

“Because none of my equipment can read this thing exactly, not even now – but it seems that they can.” She explained “For whatever reason, they can tell when this thing is active. And, for _this_ ” she gestured back at the screen “I’ll need to know as much as possible about what it’s doing. I don’t think it’ll work as well without them.” Tony considered this for a moment. But, as long as he had an alternative to Wanda, he didn’t mind.

“And the other person is a control reading…” He mused aloud, picturing how it would all work. And then he considered the list of people that Vision knew. “Why someone he already knows?”

“I don’t know that it _has_ to be someone he knows” Shuri started, a bit more carefully. And Tony realised, she’d thought about this. She’d already thought about why this will be awkward for him, and what the alternatives are, and how she’s going to bring this up. That helped, enormously. “But, truthfully, Vision understands this in a way I don’t… an emotional way. I won’t be asking Vision for objective numbers… I think it might be easier to distinguish, for all of us, if Vision knows how to identify the control reading too.” Tony did his best to consider this scientifically. To imagine the exact set up of the experiment, at the site, to think about what the different inputs would be… She was probably right.

 

So, now he had a choice to make.

 

Not Natasha, obviously. And they’d already discounted Wanda. Vision didn’t know T’Challa or Shuri, not really – he’d been too preoccupied with Wanda to get to know anyone in Wakanda. That left Steve, or Sam.

 

When Tony thought about that choice he realised; he never thought about Sam. Of all the thousands of arguments Tony had formed in his head, very few of them had ever been directed at Sam. He’d thought about the raft a fair few times, and Sam got a little section of that – but it was always an afterthought, after he’d finished what he really wanted to say to the others. It helped that Sam had never been a dick to him before hand. Tony had never worked directly with Sam, had never had any reason to spend a lot of time with him, but Sam had always been pleasant enough in their casual exchanges. He hadn’t picked at Tony, hadn’t made little digs or asked pointed questions. Before Siberia, if Tony had ever stopped to think about Sam, he probably would have just said he seemed like a nice enough guy.

 

Maybe that was it, maybe it was just that he hadn’t expected anything of Sam, that he didn’t think Sam owed him anything, so Sam just couldn’t have let him down as much. Maybe Tony just didn’t care enough about Sam. Maybe it helped that Tony hadn’t fought Sam directly in Germany, so Sam hadn’t had the chance to do anything spiteful like throw a car at him or sabotage his suit. Maybe it helped that Sam alone had come to Rhodey’s aid, Sam alone had said sorry, even though Sam’s only part in that, really, was to avoid getting shot himself. Maybe it helped more than it should have that, according to Peter’s observations, Sam didn’t like Bucky either. It just helped Tony see Sam’s decision as tactical rather than personal, if he didn’t even like the man he was trying to protect.

 

_It would really hurt Steve, if you chose Sam rather than him._

 

Well, no unthinking that thought, now. No stopping himself from thinking that was exactly what Steve deserved. But, he could argue, he did have objective reasons. He could justify choosing Sam for reasons other than spite. He _was_ trying to stay calm, after all. And yeah, he thought Sam had been reckless and arrogant, and there was no getting away from the role he played in the downfall of Tony’s life. But he _could_ put Sam in the same light as any SHIELD agent or Government Employee that had been sent on a bad mission by someone they trusted, at least for now, just to avoid the row. It made more sense to invite Sam.   

 

“Steve”

 

He really didn’t think he was going to say it. He _really_ thought he was going to say Sam.

 

“Okay” Shuri nodded “I’ll make the arrangements”

 

And Tony let her. He didn’t correct her.

 

He didn’t want it to be Sam.

 

*

 

Of course, when it was time to go down to the jeep, Tony wanted it to be Sam. When he got as far as thinking about sitting in the car with Steve, sharing the silent aftermath of the night before, Tony wanted it to be _anyone_ else.

 

But he’d done it now.

 

So he put on his best Tony Stark™ face. He strolled out with all the confidence of a recently orphaned, emotionally abused 21-year-old man, about to address the board of the worlds largest arms manufacturer. It might all have been fake, but there was a lot of it.

 

Shuri, Vision and Steve were all waiting by the car. Steve, obviously, looked him right in the eye when he got there, and Tony made a point of not looking away. Then, before Steve could say something infuriatingly mature and distant, Vision stepped forward.

 

“I know what I’m about to say will not be welcomed” He began, softly, and at first Tony was just glad of the excuse to look at someone else “But no good comes of keeping others ignorant of the true nature of things. We’ve all learned that” Just over Visions shoulder, Tony saw Steve straighten up. Tony wanted to say so many things to that.

“It’s okay, I can take it” Tony told him, pointedly.

“You should know that Wanda feels terrible remorse for everything she has done to you.” And that took the edge off Tony’s feeling of victory.

“Does she really…” He breathed, while he tried to think of the appropriate response.

“She does. Really.” Vision told him, seriously “And neither of us would tell you that in the expectation of it mattering. She doesn’t expect that to help, and I can see why. But it is true. And you have a right to know the real nature of things.” Tony felt that tingling again. That advance warning that rage is coming.

“And how did she come to that conclusion, all of a sudden?” He spoke with a voice like pulled piano wire.

“The artefact told her” Vision conceded, immediately. Tony hadn’t expected him to be quite that honest.

“You know why that doesn’t count?” He asked, darkly.

“We both do” And again, it was quicker than Tony was expecting. “And that, too, is the true state of things. Wanda can never work that out for herself now. It will always be the case, and will only ever be the case, that she was shown the answer. And now she’s sorry”

 

Tony shifted uncomfortably. _This_ was that wordless anxiety that had occurred to him when he first found out what was going on, this was what he’d been afraid of. Wanda had never thought about his point of view, had never learned or changed as a person, but now Tony had to give her some consideration. He felt like she’d stolen it. And he felt like, now, no one else would ever judge her or punish her, because she’d skipped to the end. And that felt horribly unfair. He _didn’t_ forgive Wanda, but now, all of a sudden, it was back on him. She’d done all she could do, and she’d done nothing. But he could never ask for anymore from her than utter remorse, and if he couldn’t forgive her then, well, he was the bad guy. Again. Screw this.

 

“Thank you” He said, shortly. And then he looked at Shuri “Shall we get started on this thing, then?”

“I’m driving” Shuri told him, opening the passenger door for Tony. At least she’d bothered to think about who Tony would want to sit next to. Who he’d want to avoid.

 

He took his seat next to her, and didn’t look back.

 

*

 

Steve should have been glad that Tony and Shuri filled the journey with endless, easy techno-babble. It should have been better than a heavy silence or a serious conversation. But it wasn’t. Steve hated watching Tony have a conversation he couldn’t join in with. He hated watching him be a Tony that Steve had no claim to, anymore. He _hated_ that he’d let Shuri drive. _Tony never lets anyone drive. Tony drives his own chauffer._

 

He hated that he was jealous.

 

Steve hated himself all the way to the artefact, and then when he got there, he hated the artefact. It actually looked ugly to him now that he knew what it was. He avoided looking at it the whole time Shuri and Tony were setting up their equipment. And he avoided looking at Shuri and Tony. And he avoided looking at Vision. God, there really was nowhere for him to be, was there?

 

“It could still be different for you” Visions voice came out of the void around him. Reluctantly, Steve turned to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You did already work this out. You can still work this out, for yourself. There is still a chance for it to mean something.” Vision told him, kindly. Steve felt a hot, icy feeling forming in his chest. He shook his head.

“I don’t think that would mean anything, either.” He sighed. And Vision looked at though he was about to say something, but Shuri cut them off.

 

“Are we ready?” She announced, and when Steve turned back to the artefact it was surrounded by scientific equipment. Tony was standing, impatiently, next to one of the computers. Steve knew that exact posture so well. His heart ached.

“We’re ready.” Steve lied, and walked numbly over to his position. He let Shuri hold a strand of Vibranium over his wrist, until her laptop beeped, and then watched her attach it to something like a switch board. She did that three more times, and then smiled a simple thank you at him. “Right, if you can stand right there… and Vision, if you could stand with me, so that you can tell me what’s going on…” Vision did as he was told. Tony, of course, didn’t need any instructions. Tony had already strapped what looked like the cuff of a blood pressure monitor around his wrist. He held it out, wordlessly, for Shuri to check, and then walked over to the slab. He knelt down in front of it, and looked up at Shuri.

“Whenever you’re ready” She nodded. Tony placed both hands to the slab.

 

Thinking of last time, Steve instinctively looked at Vision. But, other than a soft intake of breath, Vision seemed unaffected. It was Tony.  Tony looked… different. If Steve didn’t know that body so well, if he didn’t _know_ that face, he might not have noticed so quickly. But there was definitely something happening.

“Is he okay?” Steve asked immediately. Shuri nodded. But he didn’t look okay. Tony looked like he was dizzy. It looked like that confused moment just before you pass out.

 

Tony had, in fact, zoned out completely. He didn’t even know it. All he’d been aware of when he touched that slab was a gentle warmth coming off of it, something that hadn’t been there before. He hadn’t noticed it rush through his skin, he didn’t know he felt hot. He didn’t know how long he’d been kneeling there, staring at his own hands, staring through the slab and through the ground…

 

Steve looked at Shuri again. There was the beginnings of a concerned frown on her face, and his heart rate kicked up.

“Tony?” She spoke calmly, but the fact that she’d had to ask at all was enough for Steve. He knew that something was wrong…

 

And then, he was just walking over to him. He’d just sort of fallen into the realisation that Tony was in trouble, like you would a trance. He’d forgotten then were in the middle of something. He’d forgotten anyone else was there. He had forgotten he was walking over to him. He just was.

 

The first Tony knew of the world was Steve touching him. He hadn’t seen or heard him approach; amazingly, he’d actually forgotten he was there. And then, the second Steve’s fingertips touched Tony’s skin a coldness began to flood through him, like an eerie anaesthetic flowing from Steve’s hand. Tony jerked his head up, thinking he was going to ask Steve what the _hell_ he thought he was doing-

 

Oh.

 

By now he was numbed completely. It was like being submerged in cold jello; he could barely see the world anymore. Just Steve. He could see Steve.

 

Tony could _see_ Steve.

 

He could see that skinny little boy that just kept getting beaten up, he could see the way he’d hardened to it and rationalised it and overcome it in his head. He could see how that boy became the young soldier, and the super soldier – he could see that it was the same Steve, standing there in both bodies. He could see a man of twenty one – God, _Peter_ would be twenty one before Tony knew it – letting them inject him with an experimental serum, just because he wanted to help. Going off to war, the exact way Peter would have gone to war – brave, and hopeful and headfirst. He saw _Steve_ , trying to learn a body that wasn’t his, trying to learn a role he’d never been trained for, trying to learn the whole world again…

 

Tony _remembered_ things… was that him remembering? Or were these images coming from somewhere else? Was it the slab, or Vision, or Steve putting these thoughts here? Because, yeah, he remembered those things… He remembered Steve telling him ‘I’ve seen the footage, the only thing you really fight for is yourself’, he was sure it _had_ look exactly like that… but it had looked nothing like that, when it happened. It hadn’t looked like that in his memories, a second ago. It had been an arrogant bully making unfair statements about someone he didn’t even know, a second ago. And, now, it was so obviously a frightened, defensive man not knowing how to play it… _had_ it looked like that before? Now _all_ of his memories of Steve… He suddenly remembered a man at the end of his tether, not knowing what to do for the best, making a series of increasingly bad decisions as the world closed in around him… he remembered how it had ended up with Steve watching everything fall apart, watching one friend try to murder another, and then just _snapping_ under the awfulness of it all…

 

He looked at Steve now, and he knew that look so well… and it was like he’d never seen it before. He always thought that was Steve’s ‘Captain America Cares’ look. The distanced concern of a doctor or a police officer, someone that delivered bad news for a living. Tony had always thought Steve was doing that look on purpose… But he wasn’t. Tony could _see_ it. Steve _did_ care, he was so obviously a man looking down on a friend in need, not knowing what to do for the best, scared…

 

Steve was going mad. Tony could _see_ it. Steve had been spiralling for years, burying trauma after trauma, being hit by blow after blow. He’d repressed more and more of himself, retreated further away, until everything had come crashing down on him. And it had broken him. Siberia had broken Steve every bit as much as Tony, and now he was all alone, in pieces, with no way to put himself together.

 

“Jesus Christ, Tony” Steve breathed, aghast. He sounded like a man in shock, like he could barely form the words. “I didn’t think – I thought – I knew that it, that I… God, I’m _so_ sorry, Tony…” And then his fingers slipped away from Tony’s shoulder-

 

And then they both came to their senses, horribly.

 

The world was right there, garish and noisy and harsh on the skin. They both looked up, stunned, and then dropped their eyes immediately. There were other people here. They were outside in the world. And then, there was each other. They couldn’t look at one another.

 

“I think that might have worked” Shuri sounded surprised, looking at her computer. It took Tony a full five seconds to remember what she was talking about.

 

“Yeah.” He croaked eventually “Yeah, I think it did something.”

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really like to think of this as not being NotTeamCapFriendly... but it's not Natasha friendly. Because I just don't like Natasha, there I said it. Trying to be honest. EDIT TO NOTE In light of some of the discussion of this chapter, and with hindsight, I should probably warn in advance that there is use of a gendered insult, and it may seem OOC. All I can say at this point is that I did not make that choice lightly, and there will be ramifications for that, and discussions of the significance in later updates. Later context may change how this is viewed by all characters, and I had reasons for doing that that I just hope I do justice... but if anyone does want to comment on this issue, it's something i'm especially keen to hear feedback on, so please do leave a comment, or I'm on tumblr as WilmaKins
> 
> Also, I'm actually going to have to do some actual work this week (the horror) so the updates may not be quite as regular as they have been - but I'm still hoping to get them out pretty quickly. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to read

Steve didn’t even look up from the ground until he was sure Tony was busy loading the jeep again.

 

He could hear the silence where the chatter had been, the hurried clumsiness of the tidy up, but he didn’t dare look to see if Tony was reacting the way he was. He didn’t even look in Tony’s general direction until it was time to climb in the car. Finally, when everyone was safely in their places, Steve’s eyes fell on the back of him, the shape of his shoulders and a mess of shiny black hair… Same as he’d always looked…

 

He should have known.

 

Looking down at Tony, when he’d been kneeling there by the slab, Steve hadn’t suddenly become aware of any new facts. He couldn’t read Tony’s mind, he didn’t magically see any events he hadn’t been there for. He was just looking at the same Tony that had always been there, right in front of him.

 

And then, the second he’d touched him, Steve had _seen_ it. He’d just _seen_ what was there. He’d even seen Tony’s tortured, lonely childhood – not the actual memories, no physical images, nothing Tony hadn’t told him himself. But the effect. He could see it there, woven into Tony’s skin. Tony was such a sweet, soft hearted man. He so clearly always had been. Tony, who rushed to pay for everything, who was crushed by every person he couldn’t save, who’d closed down his entire multi-national empire because he found out it was hurting people – _who does that?_ Tony, who had repurposed his own building to make a home for the Avengers, who had made sure that Steve’s room was the only one without dimmer switches and automatic taps so that he’d feel more at home there. Tony, who’d tried to keep Wanda safe-

 

_Oh, Tony._

 

And the worst thing was that Steve _had_ known all that – _those_ were the things he loved about Tony. But somehow, he’d managed to know all of that and still not know. Somehow, he’d managed to disconnect it all, he’d smiled at those things a thousand times a day like they were pleasant surprises. He’d somehow managed to piece all those kind, sensitive moments into the picture of someone else entirely – when it suited him.

 

Tony was a cocky genius, when Steve wasn’t standing up for him.

 

Tony was a magnificent bastard when Steve was picking at him, like he never did anyone else.

 

Tony was impervious, when Steve was bullying him-

 

_You bullied him_

 

That would have sounded ridiculous an hour ago. And now, it was so obviously ridiculous that it had ever sounded ridiculous… Now he’d seen Tony, who had never heard a kind word without a caveat, no matter how much he tried… and he had always tried, Steve could see it now, in his eyes, under his skin, every single memory of Tony, him _trying_. That wide-eyed wonderful boy, who had been browbeaten and talked down by everyone, and just kept getting back up, trying again, trying harder. And Steve had just _assumed_ he could never be bullied.

 

Because Tony wouldn’t let people bully him. That was why. That’s what Steve had punished him for.  

 

Tony hadn’t had a super serum; he’d made _himself_ bigger. He learned to outsmart the people who targeted him, out talk everyone that tried to take him down, stand up for _himself_ because no one had ever done it for him. And every time someone knocked Tony down, he got back up, _I could do this all day._ Everything Steve had tried to do, aspired to do. And everyone had hated Tony for it. The world had labelled him a prick for refusing to be bullied, and Steve had bought it.

 

Steve had joined in.

 

Steve had picked on his clothes, and his past, and his persona, the moment he met him. Because he rubbed him up the wrong way, because he didn’t react the way Steve wanted him to – what, because he was _asking_ for it? Because he’d had an impression of Tony in his head, and somehow he’d managed to keep hold of it even when it he’d learned it was all wrong. He’d kept going back to it automatically, without even stopping to think. And now he looked at Tony, the one that had been there the whole time, always trying to be better even though he never got the credit, building it himself and designing it himself and making peace with himself because no one was there to do it-

 

Steve _tried_ to think of the brilliant egotist he’d seen in Siberia, the man who was just blind to the wider truth… He tried to find the fragments he’d even pieced that out of. He just looked at Tony, who could never do right for doing wrong, sitting down and considering all those perspectives, all on his own… trying to keep Wanda safe, trying to get Bucky put into an Avengers facility, trying to bring them in himself so that Ross wouldn’t… trying to talk to him. Knowing he’d get nowhere, because he never got anywhere, but _trying_ anyway… Coming to Siberia, after everything. Tony, who tried to help them shape a law he believed in, who did his best to keep Steve out of trouble for breaking it. Tony, trying frantically to keep it all together with half the information, because Steve hadn’t even told him the full story.

 

_I know_

 

How many years had Steve been doing that? When had it started? Before Siberia, definitely. Sokovia? DC? New York?

 

_You listened to Wanda, and if you had stopped him making Vision-_

                _I know_

_If you’d called Tony when you first learned about Zola’s algorithm-_

                _I know_

_You said he was all about style, and you didn’t even know him-_

                _I know_

 

He’d never even thought. He’d decided, somewhere along the line, that there was no _point_ in thinking, no point in being sorry-

 

_There’s no point in being sorry? Jesus Christ Rogers…_

 

He’d never given a thought to whether Tony needed him to be sorry. Whether he _should_ be sorry, really sorry, just because he should. He’d never thought that _feeling_ this pain wasn’t his choice to make.  He’d _destroyed_ Tony. And every time he’d gone to think about it, he’d told himself _I know._ But it wasn’t _I know_ , it was _I don’t want to think about it_. Because it would hurt. He’d done all that, and then he’d refused to think about it, because it would have hurt. All this time, not doing the right thing, not doing the _basically human_ thing, to avoid the pain for himself. All this time, being selfish.

He’d been walking around for years, _la la la not listening_ , not wanting to think about everyone he missed, not wanting to think about how confusing the world was, not wanting to think about every new trauma as it happened – not wanting to think about who he was. What he’d done. What he’d become.

 

And it hadn’t even helped. Steve realised now that _this_ was why he as so miserable. He was this miserable anyway. It was all still there, churning inside him. He’d just been too much of a coward to look.

 

Steve had _thought_ he knew. He _thought_ he was sorry. And now he realised, he hadn’t even known how much he had to be sorry for. How it began way before Siberia. How Siberia was just the culmination of years of taking Tony for granted and getting him all wrong.

 

All the little things he loved about Tony _were_ Tony, and Steve loved him _so_ much… when he thought about _anyone_ being as horrible to Tony as he had been… he _hated_ himself. He wanted to step back into his own memories and kick himself.

 

And Wanda. And Natasha. And Clint. Even Scott Lang. When Steve thought of Scott bitching on the raft, saying _never trust a Stark_ when he’d never even met one… someone else’s option on Tony’s father, that’s all Scott had. And Steve had gone along with it, barely listened to it, vaguely known it was unfair but assumed it didn’t matter. That it would just roll off Tony’s back, that Tony could take care of himself… But how could Steve ever be angry about that, when he’d done it too?

_You’re all about style, aren’t you?_

 

Steve had known for less than a day when he said that, and Tony had been wearing a $10 t-shirt at the time – Tony must’ve _known_ that Steve was talking to his father, looking to see which of his qualities Tony had inherited. Tony must’ve seen that reaction so many times… And Steve hated all of the people that had ever done it. Lang, Pym, Vanko… himself.

 

He was the worst of the lot

 

He’d _encouraged_ others to do this. He was the reason Wanda broke out the compound, he was the reason Clint got involved, Nat did what she did to stand up for him… _how could she do that?_ But how could be hate her for it? He felt like he’d gathered a gang of bullies together, talked them into it, got them to ruin their lives over it… how could he hate them for it, now?  How could he hate Wanda now? When Wanda had even come to the same conclusions he had, when _neither_ of them had worked this out for themselves?

 

_You know why that doesn’t count?_

Vision was right – Steve _had_ a chance to work this out for himself. It had been right there in front of him. But he hadn’t wanted to look.

 

And now it was too late.

 

Steve realised, he could _never_ work it out for himself now. When Tony asked _him_ , where has this revelation come from… Steve even understood why it _couldn’t_ count. He saw that now. He could never make this right now.

 

But, for the first time in years, he saw that he had to say something anyway.

 

The great revelation Steve had in the back of that jeep was that he had to say something. Even if Tony would never forgive him, even if it didn’t make anything any better, he still had to say it. And he couldn’t say it to the back of Tony’s head, half way though a jeep ride with Shuri and Vision. And he probably couldn’t say it the moment they got out of the car, because they both had to go back to the lab for testing, and _nothing_ could interrupt what he had to say to Tony. But as soon as that was done with, whatever else happened, _whatever_ Tony said, Steve had to say something.

 

He only had until then to work out what.

 

*

 

Tony had spent the whole drive back to the palace listening to two angry men arguing in his head – both of them him.

 

Because there was now a very loud voice in his head, speaking on behalf of Steve Rogers. There was a whole Tony inside of him that just felt achingly sorry for Steve now, that wanted to put his arms around Steve and _shhh_ him instead of doing any of this. And that Tony was furious at himself for never seeing what had been right in front of him. For never _considering_ that Steve might have needed help.

 

For still being angry with him.

 

Because, whatever Sympathetic Tony said, Angry Tony still felt he had a point. There was an equally strident voice in his head, reminding him that Steve had still done all of these things, whatever the reason. That the things Steve did were still wrong, and selfish and spiteful, even if Steve wasn’t. A voice that was furious at himself for even considering forgiveness, just because Steve didn’t mean for any of it to happen. He should have known it would happen. He should have thought-

 

_He’s going mad Tony, you know he is._

 

And what got Tony right in the gut was that he’d known that anyway. Or he should have. When Tony thought back to all the moments that had made him fall in love with Steve, all the most personal, intimate memories, and the way Steve would flinch away at the end of so many of them… Tony had always taken it personally. He’d only ever seen Steve huff off for no discernible reason. Or, as it turned out, he’d only ever seen Steve close down in front of his eyes. He’d seen that confusion and fear as Steve ran away, or, at least it was there in his memories – and he’d never once run after him.

 

_So that gives him a right to lie to you about your parents?_

_Storm out of any attempt to work it out?_

_Chase after a bunch of imaginary super soldiers without even telling you why?_

 

And the trouble was, he’d _thought_ he had this argument down. Tony had spent six months thinking of all the reasons Steve was wrong, all the points that were on his side. Putting them in different orders, structuring them in different ways, never managing a final speech but at least getting familiar with the general content. Now he kept reaching, confident he had all of the answers to hand – but none of them were relevant any more. They were all arguments against an ideologue, they were all meant for someone arrogant and unconcerned with the feelings of others. Tony, specifically. But now that Tony knew, he just _knew,_ they’d been mistakes, desperate, stupid mistakes… now that he knew that it was never because Steve didn’t care about him, or disliked him specifically…

 

He felt like he’d spent six months working for a presentation, only to turn up on the day and find it was on a different topic completely. Worse still, a topic he was _sure_ he could talk about, if he could just think about it for a minute…   

 

He wanted to slap Steve. He wanted to _scream_ at him, _why won’t you just talk to me? Why won’t you just let me love you?_ That sweet, naive, slightly sarcastic guy, the one that challenged him rather than picked on him, the one that got the giggles, _that one_ , that was the one Tony had loved. And every time he’d seen it, he’d reach out for it, and the light would change and it would just disappear. All Tony could ever think was that he was imagining it, or that it was something he had done. He kept wondering why Steve kept closing down on _him_.

 

_Because Steve is going mad_

_Because Steve needed you to go after him_

_Because not everything is about you_

 

But some things were, surely? He couldn’t forget all those things Steve had done to _him_ , all the things Steve had done for everyone except him – those things were all real, too.

 

Weren’t they?

 

Tony had been through so many versions before this. He’d considered that _he_ was just in the wrong about everything, and it must surely only be a matter of time before it dawned on him. He’d considered that maybe Steve wasn’t the wonderful person he’d always thought, and it would only be a matter of time before Tony accepted it. He’d thought maybe Steve was a wonderful person who just treated _him_ badly, and no matter how much time he gave it, that would never change… He’d thought Steve had done it because he didn’t care about the hurt he’d caused him, or maybe because Steve just wasn’t as considerate as he’d always given him credit for, or that Tony just wasn’t good enough for him, even. All reasons to walk away, arguments not to even try…

 

But, if Steve was just that wonderful person… If this really was just a mistake, just a potentially understandable mistake… Did that mean… _could_ they… _was_ it possible?

 

God, Tony wanted _so_ much to forgive him, he hadn’t even realised until this very moment. How much he’d _wished_ he could. How angry he’d been at Steve, for never giving him any opportunity. For never being sorry, never making amends, never making contact…for that _fucking_ letter. Tony had hated Steve because the ball had always been in his court, because Tony was too hurt to speak first, too sure he was in the right to do it, he had too much pride to crawl back to a man that had done all that and wasn’t even sorry… But if he _was_ sorry… If it _wasn’t_ like that…

 

But Steve would still have to speak first. This was still on Steve to make right.

 

…He _couldn’t_ pin all of his hopes on Steve doing the right thing, saying the right thing, saying _anything_ …

 

_But he might… If you gave him a chance, if he did say the right thing…_

_Oh, could we…_

 

“Do you want to go straight to the lab?” Shuri asked him, casually. Tony snapped back to the real world, shocked that they were back at the Palace. How had that happened? “…Tony?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, definitely” He mumbled, getting out of the car “Let’s get this done”

 

 

*

 

They might have taken any number of routes to the lab. Tony didn’t even know which one they’d gone with, until they reached the North foyer. If Vision hadn’t stopped so suddenly, Tony wouldn’t have looked up then, either.

  
But there they were. Wanda, sitting on one of the longue chairs, obviously at the tail end of an incredible crying fit. Sam, standing awkwardly next to her, casting concerned looks between Wanda and Nat. Nat, kneeling on the floor in front of her, trying to get Wanda to maintain eye contact.

  
Tony stopped, instinctively. Steve and Shuri came to a stop because he and Vision had. And then Wanda looked directly at him, her eyes bloodshot and her skin still shiny wet, and Tony’s heart stopped.

_Not now_

  
Tony looked down, and made to keep on walking.

“Tony-” It sounded like the word had broken out of her, like she’d torn her throat in saying it. Tony hesitated. _Damn it._ “I know I’ve no right to say-”

“Then don’t” Tony cut her off, an edge of incredulity on his voice “If you know it’s not right before you do it, don’t do it”

“...Just talk to _him_ ” Wanda pleaded, defeated, looking right at Steve. There was a flash of blinding outrage behind Tony’s eyes.

“Or just do it anyway, whatever” Tony breezed, and made another attempt to walk away.

“Jesus Christ Tony” Natasha snapped, irate. Tony stopped again. _Just keep going! Just walk away!_ “Who does this help-”

“Nat” Steve spoke authoritatively, calmly “Drop it”

“No” Nat shot “You weren’t here ten minutes ago” She gestured back to Wanda “This isn’t all about him-”

“Seriously, Nat, shut up” Steve said, in a different voice entirely. A warning voice. There was a soft rush in the room as everyone was taken aback just slightly. Nat glared at him.

“What, because we’re supposed to be keeping him _calm_ -”

“No, because you’re being a total bitch”

  
Steve hadn’t known he was going to say that. _That isn’t a nice word_. That isn’t something Captain America would say-

  
But you know what? Screw Captain America. Steve didn’t even _like_ Captain America.

 

Captain America was a jerk. Captain America was an arrogant, thoughtless, self-righteous prick. Captain America probably _would_ let Nat tear a strip off Tony. Captain America probably would have done it himself, because Wanda was a crying girl who needed protecting and Tony was standing his ground. Captain America was a fucking _brand_ , a marketing tool for War Bonds, a caricature with catch phrases for morals. Captain America had no comprehension that Wanda was crying because she deserved it, and that Tony didn’t deserve it just because he wasn’t.

  
But Steve had. A skinny, sickly kid from Brooklyn had known, once, that it didn't matter if someone was sympathetic or not, whether they were nice to him or not, whether they were a Nazi or not - a kid who just hadn't liked bullies

  
Steve had known to stand up for people because it was right. Not because it suited him, not just the people that looked like victims. Just the people who were wronged. And Natasha was _wrong_. When he stopped trying to think what Captain America would think, and just thought-

  
“Some things _are_ about him. Sometimes he gets for things to be about _him_. And this _is_ about him, this is about what we did to _him_. And he doesn’t _have_ to talk to me, or to Wanda, or to any of us if he doesn’t want to. This isn’t his problem to fix. And whatever happened ten minutes ago, that isn’t his fault, that’s our fault, and you don’t get to yell at him just because you don’t like having to live with it!” And by the end of it he was actually shouting.

 

Everyone’s mouths had fallen open - even Wanda had forgotten about crying. Natasha recoiled first, openly shocked. Then she visibly gathered herself, stood forward, rearranged herself into defensive.

 

“What _we_ did?” She demanded “Sorry, you’re on _his_ side now?”

“I never asked you to help me fight _him_!” Steve shot back “I _never_ wanted to hurt him - but, yeah, I did. I make a series of massive, unforgivable mistakes, because I thought the world was at risk and I wanted to help my friend and because I’m an idiot. And I’m sorry. And I’m sorry to you guys too, because I know this has screwed your lives up, and I know you only did it because you believed in me, and I’m still grateful for that part of it. But that doesn’t make it any less wrong. And I can’t keep pretending that it wasn’t wrong because of that. And I’m not going to spend the rest of my life watching people be horrible to him because _I_ was once.” And Steve forced himself to stop there. He took a long, slow breath. He knew he was getting into deeper issues here. Those were things he had to say to Tony. For now… “Yeah, this is all my fault, I made some horrible mistakes, I ruined everything, I brought you all down with me. I’m sorry.” And he left a beat, gestured to indicate a completely separate point “Also, leave Tony alone, okay?”

  
There was a palpable tension in the room, like the air was thinning. Natasha just stared for a moment, chest heaving with outrage, clearly scanning for any response to an assault she’d _never_ thought to prepare for.

“You know what, fine” She surrendered, eventually “You keep having revelations that he’ll never listen to, and we’ll keep having catastrophes that he ignores, and I won’t say a word”

 

Steve very nearly said, _good_.

 

Instead he just watched her huff away. Wanda and Sam shared an awkward look, and followed her. That left the four of them, standing in the electric silence.

 

Steve looked up at Tony. In that second before Tony thought to cover it, Steve saw it again. No alien artefact needed. That sweet, hopeful boy, so honestly amazed that _anyone_ had spoken for him. Steve’s heart broke.

“I’m so sorry, Tony” He said, before he could stop himself. He saw Tony come to some version of his senses, finding a neutral expression for the meantime.

“We have to log these numbers” He said after a second, his voice unnaturally level. Like he was literally in shock. And Steve remembered. When he did that, he had to do it properly.

“Right, yeah” Steve nodded, and followed him towards the lab.

 

*

Tony’s father had had to apologise to his mother, _a lot_.

 

Sometimes it was for horrible, hurtful things – ruining family functions, standing her up completely, _other women_. He would always apologise with a gift. And sometimes, probably by total chance or because of a thoughtful assistant, he managed to get something really meaningful. Something Tony’s mother had _really_ wanted, was overjoyed to have, something that would have been so thoughtful if it had come from anyone else. And Tony would always see a little flash of conflict in her eyes, an unmissable sadness.

 

In the first few moments after Steve’s outburst, Tony had understood that feeling completely. Almost being angry at the thoughtfulness of gesture, because you kind of wanted to stay upset... No, it wasn’t that – it was because you _were_ still upset, and you felt like your rights to it were being stolen. Like you maybe preferred being completely in the right with your anger. Like maybe Steve not bothering at all was better than him bothering a little bit, bothering too late… That was the sadness in his mothers eyes. The conflict was being so moved regardless, the fact that it had actually worked. You didn’t want to be won over, but maybe you were…

 

That feeling maintained for as long as it took them to reach the lab. Tony had told Steve where to drop the equipment in the same robotic voice, not sure how he’d wished he’d played this, later. It was only after Steve and Vision left he and Shuri to it, when he finally felt free to think about what happened…

 

 _Do not_ _cry. Don’t you dare cry._

 

Because that wasn’t ‘I love you, but’ or ‘I’m sorry you felt that way’ or ‘You could be brilliant, if’ or ‘I’m only saying it because I’m worried about you’. There were no caveats there. Steve hadn’t said ‘for all his faults’ or anything even like it… That was just _leave Tony alone, okay?_ And no one had _ever_ done that before. And just thinking about _that_ , Tony was suddenly overwhelmed, instantly tearful and vulnerable and wonderful. What the hell was this feeling?

 

And Steve had meant it.

 

And if Steve really meant that, if it wasn’t a gift, if it was a real, genuine change...

 

What was _that_ feeling?

 

And then he felt Shuri looking at him. He felt himself blush a little when he looked up at her, wondering how long she’d been standing there.

“Are you ready to begin?” She asked casually, and Tony rushed over immediately. He was ready to begin this, and end this, and then he had other things to do…

 

He held out his wrist, still wearing the cuff from earlier, so that Shuri could scan it. He watched the numbers flash up on the screen like a pattern of lights. Meaningless. Irrelevant. The sound of Shuri typing was like rain on a window pane, somewhere in the background.

_He’ll talk to you. You know he will. You don’t have to say anything. If you just go to him, and give him a chance…_

“Okay, so that is all the data to _input_ , now all we need to do…” And Shuri’s expression melted into a frown. There was a long pause.

“Everything okay?” Tony asked, blinking the numbers into focus as he brought himself back into the room.   

“…I think the system is offline again?” She looked to him for confirmation.

“I thought it reconnected before we left?” Tony spoke as he looked. There was definitely an output missing… “It’s not all of them, though”

“Maybe we did disrupt the system?”

“But that should have disrupted-

“-unless it was input specific?”

“But even then…” Tony looked again, begrudging the mental effort when he wanted to be thinking about something else. There was definitely a distortion in the pattern… but the system wasn’t offline, you could see it was still active…

 

“Or, possibly ” Shuri mused, her tone somewhere between careful and smiling. “…Are you just happy?” And Tony looked up at the screen again. And he smiled.

 

Oh yeah. That’s what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to think of anyone getting there hope up here and thinking all the angst is done with...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneaks in update before work tomorrow*
> 
> This continues to be not Natasha friendly, because I continue not to like her. Sorry.

Steve had considered hovering by the lab doors. He knew this was coming years too late as it was, and he didn’t want to waste any time getting to it. And, yeah, maybe there was also a part of him that was so anxious to do it, he couldn’t _bear_ to wait a second longer than he had to… Then Steve reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. Objectively speaking, pouncing on Tony the second he stepped out of the lab probably wasn’t the best way to start.

 

But he didn’t want to risk missing him. He didn’t want Tony to walk out of that lab and find him gone, for there to have to be another agonising wait while they found each other in the palace. Hm. There were lots of different ways to get in and out of that lab… but most of them took you by the central staircase. There was a large, open lobby there that Tony was almost certain to see on his route through to anywhere. If nothing else, Steve would look less like a deranged groupie, if he was waiting in a lobby.

 

Sam had obviously had the same idea.

 

And when Steve saw him there was a little twist of pain in his chest. _Oh, yeah. Sam._ And, looking at him, it was so obvious that Steve had quite a bit to say to Sam, that Steve still owed a lot to Sam, as a comrade and a friend – and he’d completely forgotten. He felt guilty for it, now… _But there’s just so much._ There was a whole history, a specific, intricate web of loyalties and expectations and obligations, between him and Sam. Different to him and Tony, him and Bucky, him and Nat or Wanda or Fury or Ross. All those hundreds of people, and the situations were all different. Different apologies, different arguments. He just couldn’t keep everybody in his head at once.

 

But now that he was standing right here…

 

“I’m sorry, Sam” He said, softly, resisting the temptation to look at the floor. Sam smiled sadly.

“Hey man, if you’re sorry, I’m sorry” He sighed. “I took the same chances you did, jumped to the same conclusions.”

“You did it because of me” Steve told him. And Sam tilted his head slightly, _yeah, sorta…_

“I took my own chance on you” He explained, “I looked at that situation, same as you did, same intel, and I made my choice. And, yeah, part of that was knowing it was you…” He conceded. Steve couldn’t help but wince “…Dude, you’re military, same as me. You go on the evidence you got. And I thought, hey, I know this guy isn’t secretly plotting against us, and I was right about that. And I thought, I know this guy is going to do what he thinks is the right thing, and I was right about that. And, you know…maybe I _did_ think, this must be okay because Steve says it is. But if I did that, it’s on me”

“This isn’t on you.” Steve said seriously, somewhat taken aback by the route the conversation was taking. Still thinking he supposed to be apologising.

“ _That_ part is on me.” Sam corrected him “This was my choice to make, my gamble, based on the evidence I had. I knew there were some good card in the deck when I made my call, but I should’ve known it wasn’t a sure-fire thing. Just because you’d never turn on us, doesn’t mean you could never get the wrong end of something or…  if you should have thought, maybe the whole thing was a set up, then, hey, maybe so should I.” He shrugged, a little crease of guilt flickering on his forehead “All I’m saying is, it isn’t up to you to make my choice right for me, is all.” Steve took a second to process that unexpected kindness.

“Do you think it was a mistake?” He asked, genuinely. He saw a little struggle behind Sam’s eyes then.

“Well, I did everything thinking there was an army of Super Soldiers poised to take over the world, and there wasn’t, so I kinda figured that out when you broke us out of jail” He exhaled. And then he went on, almost sympathetically “I don’t… think we necessarily made the same mistakes. Bucky was never my boy, you know? I wasn’t going out on a limb for him. I went out on a limb for you, when you said you wanted to bring him in instead of leaving it to Ross, and I’m still cool that that. That’s no different to what Tony did in Germany, that’s what people do for friends. I never did that because you promised I wouldn’t get caught. And after that… then it was about national security, for me. We both believed the same lie about an army of super soldiers, both made the same dumbass plan to stop it. And that’s what I got sent down for, what I did, so I can’t be mad about that. I know I have to say my own sorry to Tony, but…you have a whole other thing with him, and whoever, and I don’t get a vote on that.”

 

Steve let out a breath and felt oddly…defeated. Like he’d geared up for something that just hadn’t happened. And then a warmer, more liquid feeling welled up inside him, as he realised what Sam had just said. He realised, he’d never really made enough space for Sam. He might even have thought, somewhere in his messed up memories, that bringing Sam in on his missions was enough. That trusting him was some sort of gift, as though asking for Sam’s help tracking Bucky was a gesture to him. He’d thought so many things. Sam wasn’t Bucky, he wasn’t Tony, but he wasn’t just one of the others either. He was the very best of the others, at least. _God, there is such a lot…_

 

“I’m still sorry, Sam” He said. Because he was. Because, in amongst the _lot_ that was swirling in his head, there was still the revelation that sometimes you just had to be sorry. “If I’m sorry for making those mistakes, then I’m sorry to you as much as anyone. I know what all this has cost you, and… I just know, if I’d done what I was supposed to, you’d be one of many people that would be a lot better off. And I’m sorry”

 

Sam just smiled, and gave a small nod. Steve nodded back, and finally let himself look at the floor.

 

Sam made sure to leave a suitable pause in honour of the moment before he spoke again.

“Have you seen Nat..?” He asked, far more timidly. Steve felt his shoulders tense. _And there’s another thing_. A totally different thing, one that he not only had to find room for but keep consistent with everything else. He had so many automatic thought patterns, there had been _so many_ sudden revelations on why they were wrong. Steve wished his head could have a moment of enlightenment, the way his heart had. He wished he didn’t keep forgetting things he’d _literally_ only just worked out – that he’d kicked himself for being blind to. And yet.

“Not yet” He answered, a filler, while he tried to remember what he’s said to Nat.

“Yeah, she’s pretty pissed” Sam warned. Steve frowned at him, defensively. If he was ignoring his endless mental training and just going with his gut instinct, he wasn’t sure she had any right to be. “And, that’s a whole other…thing” Sam placated, holding his palms up in a subconscious gesture of surrender “But… Maybe you shouldn’t have called her a bitch” Steve felt himself press his lips together, resisted the urge to fold him arms “…I’m just warning you, she’s going to tell you that herself, at some point.”

 

Steve let out a slow breath, trying to dispel some of the tension that was building in his muscles. There was _still_ the temptation to shut it all down.

_You shouldn’t have used that word_

_I know_

But he had to stop doing that. He knew he did. So, then, his immediate thought was that he wasn’t sorry he’d said it, any of it, because she deserved it

_Because she was asking for it?_

No, obviously that wasn’t right either. And, thinking about it, he couldn’t justify it simply because he was done being Captain America. He wasn’t aiming to be the Anti-Captain America, saying every offensive thing Captain America wouldn’t have said… Steve Rogers wouldn’t have called Natasha a bitch, either.

_Because you were right about everything else._

It _did_ annoy Steve to have to start with an apology, when he was still sure he was ultimately in the right. When what he’d just done was maybe the only _right_ thing he’d done for Tony since…he met him. When he was still so angry at her.

_Do you even have a right to be angry with her? Have you worked that bit out yet?_

_Are you just lashing out because you feel bad?_

_Does it matter if you are angry?_

And, behind all of this, the constant thought of Tony, still in the lab. His head hurt.

 

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have used that word” Steve conceded, carefully, after a moment. Making clear exactly how much he was apologising for. He wished, when the world fell down in front of you, there was something else behind it. But it’d happened enough times now, he knew, there was just rubble and no one to ask for instructions. And then another thought occurred to him “…is she looking for me, then?”

“…She was” Sam told him, almost apologetically. Steve huffed out an irritated breath.

 

_Not now_.

 

Steve looked back toward the lab. He didn’t want to be having a row with Natasha in the lobby when Tony came out. He didn’t want to risk Natasha bursting into a conversation he was having with Tony, and he really wasn’t sure she wouldn’t. He _really_ didn’t want to walk away from Tony to have things out with Natasha.

 

A prickle of irritation ran up his spine. He was angry with her for hijacking this, which was enough to convince briefly convince him he could call her whatever the hell he wanted

 

_Come on, you know that isn’t right_

 

Well, it turned out Steve Rogers, or Captain America, or whoever the hell he was, had some very nasty thoughts on occasion. When he was angry, when he was hurt. And now that he wasn’t allowed to shut himself up, he recognised that he always had. Pretending they hadn’t been there hadn’t helped. He’d still snapped at Tony, whether he’d known why or not. He’d still walked away from Tony, bleeding on the floor of a Siberian bunker, because he was angry and hurt. And he would still like to behave in a totally unreasonable fashion towards Natasha, right now – but he knew he shouldn’t.

_Like you should have been nicer to Tony, even if you were angry at him_

_Like you shouldn’t have walked away, even if you were hurt_

_Like you shouldn’t be spiteful to Natasha, or anyone, regardless of what they’ve done._

 

Well, that all sounded very obvious, didn’t it? And, unfortunately, it was equally obvious that he’d have to go and find her. Because he couldn’t let anything get in the way when he _did_ talk to Tony. God damn it.

 

“Where is she?”

 

*

 

Steve found Natasha on the veranda, giving the horizon the evils.

 

He knew she’d heard him walk out; he recognised the way her shoulder flexed, just so. But she didn’t change her expression. She left a few seconds before she acknowledged him.

 

“Captain America doesn’t use language like that” She said eventually, her voice cold and far away. Steve felt his stomach acid bubble.

“I’m sorry I called you a bitch.” He replied, equally cold.

“Never had you pegged for a sexist” She went on with a joyless smile, still not turning her head. Steve set his teeth.

“I’m not a sexist” He told her, with forced patience “I just lost my temper, and I’m sorry.”

“Would you have called Tony a bitch?” She challenged, finally looking up at him “Or Sam, or T’Challa?”

 

And no, he wouldn’t.

 

And he wanted so much to _I know_ that one. Or anything that would have allowed him to set it aside, because really, there was quite enough chaos happening in his head without a debate on gender politics. But he couldn’t silence anything anymore. It was as though he’d spent his whole life wearing sunglasses, and even though the world was unbearably bright without them, he didn’t have them anymore. There was no seeing clearly by degrees, however painful.

 

Captain America wouldn’t have called a woman a bitch. Steve Rogers wouldn’t. But now he wondered whether one of him would have _thought_ it, and he knew _no_ one of him would have thought it about a man. What did that mean? And suddenly he found his head filling with counter examples, women he’d worked alongside, prejudices he’d never held, stands he’d taken for women… and he realised, he sounded like a certain type of man. _Some of my best friends are women._ He didn’t want to be that either. He couldn’t defend what he’d said with that. He couldn’t defend what he’d said at all.

 

But, maybe, he didn’t have to defend it. Maybe, he realised, that wasn’t who he was.

 

Steve had, undeniably, said a sexist thing. For all his genuinely progressive views there were clearly _some_ sexist ideas in his head, and he’d acted on them in anger. He _was_ sorry. But that didn’t necessarily make him a sexist person. And Steve had, undeniably, done some horrible things. For all his good intentions, there were clearly a lot of wrong ideas of ideas in his head, or there had been. But that didn’t mean he had to be a horrible person. He had choices.

 

The thing about being a brand for selling war bonds was, you had to be consistent. Clear, easy to understand, reliable, unchanging, simple. Captain America wasn’t allowed to change his mind, develop, grow – Captain America had to be the same at the end of every episode. That sounded like it should make things simpler, but looking at himself now, Steve realised it had been suffocating. The idea of being able to just have said a sexist thing, and learned from it, was in itself a revelation. To not have to deny it, or rebrand it, or defend it. To be able to change directions. To be able to change at all.  It was as though he’d gone to battle in an iron box, scared of what he’d be vulnerable to if he took it off. But now, it was as though he could _move_ , as though he was so much less likely to get hit in the first place. If he just _thought_.

 

“No, you’re right, I wouldn’t” Steve sounded slightly calmer now. “So I was sexist that time, and I’m sorry.”

“That all you’re sorry for?” She demanded.

“No.” Steve answered quickly “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell Tony about his parents. I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time working on The Accords. I’m sorry I didn’t just take Bucky back to the compound the second time he broke out. I’m sorry I didn’t tell Tony what was really going on. I’m sorry I didn’t check the Super Soldiers theory more. And I’m sorry that anyone else got caught up in my mistakes” He reeled off, sure there were a lot more if he had the time. “But, I’m not sorry for telling you not to yell at Tony, and I’m not sorry for saying all of that was a mistake.”

 

Natasha smirked, bitterly.

 

“It’d be nice if epiphanies were really clean like that, wouldn’t it?” She told him acidly. “If there really was a moment, a pivotal event, and then, boom, you’re changed. You see it all so clearly, you’re a completely different person. Did you feel like that, for just a minute, Steve?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. And Steve felt his heart rate kick up, a distinct feeling of _uneasiness_ , because he understood what she meant.

 

“Doesn’t last, does it? Because when you’re done seeing that everything you ever thought was wrong, and everything you ever were was wrong, you realise you don’t know what you do think, and you’re still the same person.”

 

She said the last part like an accusation. Steve swallowed. He felt like she was walking around in his head, articulating his anxieties exactly.

 

“You _don’t_ become better just because you suddenly wished you were.” She told him, spitefully “And, guess what Steve? It doesn’t last. It isn’t ‘The Change’, it isn’t forever, you’re going to find yourself having this revelation again and again. So, I’ll skip you to the end and tell you, eventually you’re going to work out there is no right way. There is no meaning to life, no moral guidelines, no team rules, no social order. Just you, and what’s happening right now.”

 

Steve looked at her differently, then. He wondered, what would he have seen, if she’d been touching that slab instead of Tony? What damage had always been there, right in front of his eyes? He saw it now. And, of course, he knew where it came from. He could see the legacy of her traumatic childhood, her conversion from assassin to Avenger, her life since. And it had broken her. It had twisted her, and hollowed her out. Steve felt sorry for her. But, mainly, he looked at her and saw everything he didn’t want to be. What would happen to him if he _didn’t_ stop retreating into his head.

 

“You know what, Natasha, you’re right.” He told her “This is confusing, and scary, and… _horrible_. But, maybe epiphanies just _aren’t_ clean. Maybe I don’t understand everything, and maybe I’m not suddenly a better person. But I want to be. Not a different label, not perfect, but better. And giving up because it wasn’t clean won’t help” He wasn’t even trying to convince her. He could tell, from the cynical sneer on her face, that there was no point. “And if you want me to skip to the bit where it’s just me, right now, then right now, just me, is very sorry. This is what I think is right, right now.”

 

He did think, then, that Natasha of all people had some front to call him out for changing his mind. _Like she did to Tony._ But he realised it didn’t matter. He’d said sorry. He’d said his piece. He’d heard her out. Surely, he could put this to bed now?

 

“Oh right.” She answered, darkly “So, have you told Tony that Bucky is here, then?”

 

And the floor just went out from under him.

 

Oh, God, he’d never told Tony about Bucky. He’d meant to, he really had. He was going to tell him on the phone, before Tony even came here, but then Tony had said no and hung up on him… and he could hardly put that in a text, and then Tony said he was just dropping Vision off, and then he wasn’t allowed to upset him – and then he forgot. He fucking _forgot._ He’d been so carried away with everything that was happening, he hadn’t even thought about Bucky.

 

And now…

 

“Have you thought about how he’ll feel when he finds out his new best friend is Bucky’s personal surgeon? That _Shuri_ kept it from him too? Because you told her to?”

 

Steve just stared at her. Suddenly there were some very horrible words in his head for her. He was _floored_ by how spiteful she was being, by how much joy she seemed to be taking in this – by how awful this was.

 

“So, even when you’re thinking about him, you need someone to tell you these things-”

“Jesus Nat-”

“What, you’re done with soul searching for today?” She shot back “Met your sorry quota? Or isn’t this who you _are_ now?”

 

Steve hated her then. In that moment, Steve _hated_ Natasha. But not enough to distract him from the horrible truth – Steve was keeping a secret from Tony _again._ The exact thing that had broken them before, the _very_ thing he’d been so sorry for. And Nat was right, he hadn’t remembered on his own. He hadn’t come up with any of this, on his own… And now, the only way to make this right was for the very first line of _the_ conversation to be, _Bucky is here_. That’s how it would have to go, now. Oh, everything was falling apart…

 

_But when everything falls apart, you still have Captain America._

No. Not this time.

 

“ _Thank you,_ for your concern.” He told her, pointedly “But how good a man I am isn’t anything to do with you. That’s to do with me. So. I am sorry for what I called you, and I am sorry for everything I just went through, and that’s it.” And he made a point of looking her right in the eye when he told her.

 

“We’re done.”

 

*

 

It had taken almost an hour for the system to reconnect fully, and even then, it didn’t look right.

 

They couldn’t be sure that the disruption had anything to do with Tony’s mood, but he quite liked that interpretation. There was a narrative satisfaction to it. And, to be honest, Tony was keen to go with any interpretation. Until they managed to link Shuri’s equipment back into the system, they couldn’t run any of the data they’d just collected. They’d be no closer to understanding what was going on, have no more idea how to stop it. He wanted to find an answer, so that they could call it a day.

 

He _wanted_ to talk to Steve.

 

Tony kept trying to tell himself that it could only go badly. Trying desperately to save himself from a sharp slide into hope. It was like the anxiety of waiting for exam results, when there was so much riding on it, when you _really_ didn’t know how you’d done. He kept trying to make his peace with all the potential outcomes.

_If Steve really gets it now_

_Or, if he doesn’t really get it, but he’s sorry_

_Or, if he’s sorry for some of it, but he’ll listen_

But what if it was just another version of that stupid letter? What if, after all that build up, Steve stood in front of him and said _I wish you understood_. What if Steve wanted to yell at him for going after Bucky, or asked him to forgive Wanda? What if Steve just didn’t want to speak to him. What if nothing had changed, and here was he, getting all excited… What if he had to start all over again? What if he had to go through it all again?

 

“No, that hasn’t worked either” Shuri huffed, drawing his attention back to the matter in hand. She was frowning, impatiently, at the computer.

“Is that our last option?” He asked, trying to sound disappointed. Because, as important as he knew these tests were – if they really had no other options, that meant he could go. Just one more thing, and he could go.

“Unless you can think of something?” She shrugged at him. And he did try, he really did. He shook his head.

 

“Okay.” Shuri sighed. “Wrist” And Tony held it out obligingly. Shuri affixed another thin strand of Vibranium, this one with a tiny LED light.

 

They were going to try rebooting the link to the system. It _shouldn’t_ affect the system itself. There was no reason to think it would cause another power surge, or anything else. But you could never be too sure.

 

“Okay, if the system does register a spike, you’ll hear a beep. I don’t think you should worry too much about that. If it starts to beep rapidly, you might want to think about leaving the situation, calming yourself down however you can. If the light flashes, come back here. Okay?” She looked at him, kindly. He nodded. “Thank you, for wearing this” She said, dropping his wrist.

“I don’t mind” He told her.

 

And, for the time being, he meant it.

 

*

 

Tony found Steve waiting in the lobby at the top of the stairs.

 

His heart started racing the moment he saw him, and he was suddenly very aware of his own skin. Instinctively, he glanced down at his new wristband. But the system wasn’t interested in his heart rate or his level of dopamine, or anything else they could have quantified. It knew what he was feeling. And, whatever it was in that moment, it wasn’t … _Dave._

 

Steve looked at him, and the thought just entered Tony’s head _he has such lovely lips._ Everyone mentioned Steve’s eyes, but no one ever said anything about his lips… His next breath felt sharp in his chest. And then he met Steve’s eye, and something cool began to unfurl in his stomach. Something like disappointment, or fear, or some human instinct to defend himself from it before it arrived. Tony swallowed.

 

Steve took a breath. An unmistakably heavy breath.

 

“Bucky is here. In Wakanda.”

 

The wristband beeped.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is much dialogue in this chapter. But y'all wanted them to talk, right?

Tony didn’t even understand what hurt, at first.

 

He searched, with rising anxiety, for the source of this cold disappointment, the way you try to find a twinge in your stomach. He had to say the words again in his head.

 

_Bucky is here. In Wakanda._

 

The first word out of Steve’s mouth had been Bucky. And Tony had thought…

 

The wristband beeped again.

 

Tony had been hoping for a proper conversation. He thought they were finally going to talk about _them_. And all the time he’d been trying to reign in his expectations, never realising he’d set the bar _way_ too high. Making things even a little bit better was _never_ on the agenda. He would’ve been stupid to hope for what he’d taken for granted… that things weren’t exactly as they’d always been.

 

He was suddenly humiliated for ever taking that for granted. He felt like the deluded spouse of a serial killer, making ever cheerier predictions as the bodies piled up. Or the prom date that really never guessed they’d been asked out as a bet.  The man who had worked behind Tony’s back for a year to find Bucky, the man who launched a crusade against him for Bucky, the man who had written that self-righteous letter asking Tony to understand about Bucky, had actually been following him around the Palace looking for a conversation about Bucky. And Tony was, what, surprised?

 

The wristband beeped again. Tony vaguely wondered what counted as rapid succession, but he’d forgotten what rapid succession meant anyway.

 

“Bucky is in Wakanda” Tony repeated in a dead tone. He recognised that he was just waiting for it to happen now. Poised to hear another sermon from the ever forgiving Captain America on how wonderful Bucky was, how he wished Tony understood, how he didn’t want to hurt Tony but if he went after Bucky… He was expecting it, the way you expect the next song on a familiar mix tape.

 

And, after that, he knew, it would _hurt_. Everything Steve hadn’t said, everything Steve hadn’t seen – all the things Tony had seen that weren’t there.

 

But… When he _looked_ at Steve…

 

He still saw it. Fuck it all, he still saw it. God damn it…

 

“I’m so sorry, Tony” The words sort of collapsed out of Steve. On an instinctive level, it registered then. _This isn’t the next song_. That wasn’t the right voice. “I really never meant to keep that from you – I know how that must…” He sighed, took a breath, “I just meant, I never decided you shouldn’t know that. I was going to tell you when I first called you, and then I thought you weren’t coming, and then…everything else. And then I was just thinking about everything else I wanted to say to you… And, this really isn’t what I wanted to be starting with, but once I’d realised I hadn’t said it... If I don’t say that first, if I’d said it in an hour and you’d asked me why I didn’t tell you before…” Steve ran out of air. He looked, helplessly, for any response at all from Tony.

 

But Tony had no idea what he was doing with his face. He had no comprehension that it was still resting in that cold, angry expression. He was too busy trying to reconcile all the different things that were right in front of his eyes.

 

Tony could see it so clearly in him. That confusion, that panic, that blind scramble to do the right thing. All the earnest goodness that had been in Steve since childhood, all the trauma that had been layering up since the army, all the guilt he’d been too damaged to process… No. Wait. He could _hear_ it. Steve was actually saying all of these things, right there, out loud. That was about as many words as Steve had ever said to Tony about his feelings.  

 

Tony blinked his expression clean, while he thought back, while he _listened_ to what Steve had just said.

 

“You’re telling me this because you don’t want to keep it from me, and you only kept it from me before because you got carried away with the situation and you didn’t get around to it?” He clarified, his tone neutral. Steve winced.

“I know that sounds-”

“No, actually.” Tony cut him off – not unkindly. “No, that sounds…” _Nothing like what I was expecting you to say._

“I’m sorry, Tony” Steve breathed. And he sounded it. And there wasn’t a but, and there wasn’t an if.

 

“Okay…” Tony spoke into the air while he waited for his head and his heart to sync up. He didn’t even know this song. He had no idea how to dance to it.

 

He didn’t actually care why Bucky was in Wakanda.

 

Tony remembered the exact moment that he’d realised he didn’t hate Bucky. And it was horrible.

 

He’d worked out that he didn’t want to murder Bucky pretty quickly after the fact. As soon as the dissociation of trauma had passed, basically. That God-awful moment on the floor of a Siberian bunker, when the rage died in his body and he came back into a broken world, empty. The fact that he’d almost murdered a man, that he could easily have killed Steve in his attempt, had been first on his list of harrowing revelations. As much as he was sure he still hated Bucky then, Tony wasn’t a murderer. He hated Wanda and Natasha and Clint by then, but if he thought of literally going after them in the suit… When he’d pictured himself, what he might have done, he’d felt sick. But then, he felt sick over a lot of things that day. He’d not been able to consider any of the issues in depth. He’d got as far as hating Bucky but dearly wishing he’d just arrested him, that day.

 

And then, three months later, thirty-nine hours into a Rhodey-Will-Walk-Again-If-It-Kills-Me design session, Bucky’s face had flashed up on his television. Tony hadn’t been paying attention to it; just a white noise to drown out the commotion in his head. When he looked up and saw Barnes smiling back at him, officers cap set at a slight angle, Tony honestly thought he’d started hallucinating. And then, slowly, he’d realised it really was on the TV, that it was a trailer for some documentary or made-for-tv movie, or something that necessitated a saccharine voice over

 

_…They needed someone they could trust…_

And Tony had glowered, all alone in his lab, and thought _if you only knew him_. And, just like that, Tony had realised: _he_ didn’t know him. He’d reached for something spiteful to follow up with, and found an empty space. Perhaps it had helped that it was old footage on the screen, that he’d been looking at Bucky as a young man. Some trick of the brain that convinced him, he couldn’t use the tried and tested _you murdered my parents_ argument. The man on the screen hadn’t. That man obviously wouldn’t. And Tony wondered, if Bucky had been trustworthy in that earnest way Steve was… he couldn’t picture Bucky being like Steve. And he didn’t know whether Bucky had been trustworthy, or a bit reckless, or funny, or timid, or bad tempered.

 

And then Tony had realised, he’d always known that Bucky hadn’t killed his parents. He’d always understood the mechanics of what had happened. But thinking _well, that man might not have killed my parent’s but… _brought it home. Bucky was a vessel, a weapon – an avatar for all his hurt. It had never been about Bucky.

 

It was awful.

 

Because if it wasn’t about Bucky, it was about the nameless, faceless network of people that had used him. It was about a poisonous idea, an organisation built on cruelty. It wasn’t something he _could_ hate, or chase down or murder. Bucky had been the face he gave to all his anger for Steve’s stupid choices, for how easily his friends had disregarded him, and for the concept of evil that had taken his parents from him. And now it didn’t have a face. Now it was just bleeding into everything.

 

Not hating Bucky had never made Tony feel better. It hadn’t made him _like_ Bucky. And it hadn’t made him any more understanding of Steve’s actions – if anything, it freed up _more_ anger for Steve.

 

Right now, it didn’t matter to Tony _where_ Bucky was. Right now _especially,_ Bucky was just something was potentially angry at Steve over, something for Steve to put ahead of Tony or something he’d hurt Tony to protect or something he’d keep from Tony even though it might hurt him…

 

_Is it me, or did he not actually do that this time?_

 

“He’s in cryo-freeze” Steve went on, as though it was physically painful to speak “We brought him here right after…we left, because T’Challa said they might have the technology to help him – and I asked Shuri not to tell _anyone_ about it, not specifically you – I never told her the whole story, anyway, and I’ve not spoken to her about it since all this…” he sighed “I just don’t want you to think she’s involved in some lie to you, because she isn’t, and I actually think if I _had_ told her everything, she’d have told you anyway…”

 

It took Tony that long to realise what Steve was trying to reassure him over. And when he did, he almost smiled.

 

Tony wasn’t sure Shuri _would_ have told him yet – but that was okay. She was a sixteen-year-old girl who’d been given a confidential project, and she’d only known Tony three days. He would have understood if Shuri had wanted to wait a little longer, even if she had known the significance. Tony never assumed he was entitled to everyone’s trust right away – he’d been annoyed because he thought he’d _earned_ Steve’s. And Tony didn’t mind what Shuri knew, especially right this minute.

 

In that moment, he was far more concerned with the way Steve was talking. The rush to get the words out, the anguish on his face. Wasn’t that meant to be a carefully delivered speech, a stoic expression, perfect posture? It wasn’t even _hard_ to see it now. It was _right fucking there._ A desperately unhappy, deeply confused man, who was so sorry he’d screwed it all up and just didn’t _know_ how to make it right. And Tony understood it. And, heaven help him, he may even have recognised it a little bit. He suddenly found himself thinking of the most agonising apologises he’d ever had to make, to his parents, to Rhodey, to Pepper… The part of him that wanted to just pull Steve into his arms had never shouted louder. And in the background, like an alarm, that hardwired response

 

_Don’t fall for it. Don’t get drawn in._

A prewritten response for something Steve wasn’t saying.

 

“It’s okay” Tony told him, simply. Trying not to sound too sympathetic, because he didn’t want to commit to it. His emotions had swung so wildly in the last few minutes alone that he couldn’t be sure of anything. But, right then… “That’s…fine. I don’t mind that he’s here, I get why you didn’t tell me, it’s…fine.” And the baffled relief in Steve’s eyes then was heart-breaking. Tony bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. “So – do you want to maybe start that again?” Steve let go of a chest full of air, and nodded.

“Yeah…” He breathed, and looked as though he was about to speak-

 

A door slammed, somewhere along the corridor. They both braced, instinctively. And then there was a pause while they waited to hear if anyone was about to interrupt them. Then their eyes met, and they shared a thought – this obviously isn’t the place.

 

“Come on” Tony said, as professionally as he could manage. Steve just followed him.

 

*

 

Tony had no idea where he was headed when he started walking. And then, as he thought through his options, he realised the only place they wouldn’t be interrupted was one of their rooms. That felt a bit… close. Personal. But at least their rooms at the Palace were more like suites – they could sit on a couch rather than the end of the bed. And he really couldn’t think of anywhere else.

 

And they appeared to be walking into his room already. So.

 

Tony made the most of that second before he turned around to look at Steve. After that quick reminder of how much this could potentially hurt, this really was it.

 

Tony knew they were irrevocably broken. Even at the heights of his optimism, Tony had still known that the Avengers were over. That the relationship Tony and Steve once had was over. Whatever it had the potential to be had already died.

 

But, flickering bravely in the storm, that tiny hope that Tony could _forgive_ him. That he could really stop hating him. That he could even understand how he came to get it so wrong.

 

Or, even, that Steve might let him have his say. That Steve might actually say something back, something meaningful, something that helped him to understand. That he might walk away from this less wounded than he had been.

 

Or, hey, maybe Steve would just get it so wrong that Tony would at least know.

 

_This is it._

He looked at Steve, and Steve looked right back at him. Neither of them went to sit. Tony saw Steve take a breath, and waited. They both knew Steve had to speak first.

 

“You’re right about everything”

 

_…You have to admit, that is a strong start._

 

“And I don’t just mean Siberia, I mean everything. Everyone is horrible to you, you’re right. You do get treated differently, you get held to higher standards, you get taken for granted, and it is just that unfair. And people do have an unfair impression of you, and you don’t deserve it. You never get the credit you deserve, no one appreciates what you do, and everyone criticises you, and you’re right. And we all did it. I did it. I’ve done it for years. Because I’m an idiot. And I didn’t think about what this would do to you, I didn’t make enough effort not to hurt you, I never gave you the respect you deserved – that you’d earned.”

 

Tony just stared at him. He forgot to breathe in.

 

…that was it?

 

_…That_ was what he’d always needed to hear?

 

That was what he’d always needed to hear.

 

That.

 

And Tony really hadn’t known how badly he’d needed to hear _that_ , from _anyone_ , all his life. He’d spent years having arguments in his head, with all manner of people, thinking he was imagining all the right responses… He’d never even thought of that. That was so much better than ‘everyone loves you really’, for some reason. And then he remembered, oh yeah, breathing, and he inhaled suddenly. Shakily.

 

And the wristband beeped?

 

Tony gave it an accusatory look, momentarily thrown. Whatever he was feeling right now, it was the absolute, categorical opposite of Dave. He was completely sure, at his gut, that had been an incorrect response-

 

_Fuck the wristband_

 

He looked back at Steve, and tried not to be floored by the raw feeling in his eyes, tried not to be floored by his own. As he reminded himself, frantically, not to get swept up in the emotion and try to remember all those important things he’d thought.

 

“And I know that sounds horrible. It is horrible. I was horrible – but it really isn’t that I didn’t like you. I know it sounds… But I really did know how special you were, even before. I just…never thought about it. And I know you must think, how could I treat you that way if I cared about you – but even idiots love people, Tony. I really would’ve died, to think of you being that much pain – and I know it’s amazing that I didn’t, but it just all…” Steve frowned, trying to remember the order he’d wanted to say all this in. Tony was holding his breath, again.

 

… _Love?_

 

“…and I really _don’t_ think as many bad things about you and you think I do. I know you do. I never thought _any_ bad things about you – I had the wrong impression for way too long, I know I did, but I never would have said a _bad_ word about you. It was just the good stuff that I didn’t know I knew, or, that I never thought of at the right times. That I forgot when it suited me.” Steve sighed, and stopped for a minute.

 

The wristband beeped again. Also wrong. Tony barely heard it.

 

“I know this doesn’t make it right…but you never seemed fazed, by anything. You never even treated Wanda differently, which is… amazing. But I just never knew she’d hurt you because you never seemed hurt – because I was too stupid to think about it, not because I wouldn’t have cared. If you’d seemed hurt, I would have hurt for you, I would’ve… It would’ve been different. But I just decided to be all magnanimous and Captain America about it. Even in Germany – I know it must seem like everyone just ganged up on you…It just seemed so different when I thought we were right. It seemed so different when I thought you were my friend, but you were wrong, and when you saw what we were trying to do, you’d understand… That came out wrong. I just meant, it didn’t seem as personal then as it does now…If had looked like ganging up on you, I would have stopped it. I wasn’t ignoring it because of Bucky. I just couldn’t see it.”

 

Tony was too busy trying to remember what he’d needed to say, before. 

 

“Can you just…tell me what happened?” Tony asked, sincerely. Steve frowned, questioning. “Can you just tell me what was going through your head? How you think we got from disagreeing about The Accords to Siberia?” And Steve nodded, slowly, and took a moment to think.

 

“It was…DC. It was SHIELD. When that happened…” He stopped himself, subtly shaking his head. No. Start again. “There was a time when I was…I dunno, just…a person. Just like everyone is, and I didn’t think about the meaning of life any more than anyone else. And, then, I was Captain America, which I actually thought was scary and confusing at the time…” Steve almost seemed to smile at that idea

 

“But it was just _one_ thing to get my head around. At least I just understood the world I was doing in, I didn’t have to think about that. So that was okay. And then I woke up in the 21 st Century, and that was _terrifying_. I didn’t know _anything_ , I didn’t know _anyone_ , and I felt like I’d _just_ lost Peggy, like Bucky had _just_ died, and now there wasn’t even anyone who’d know who I was talking about… I didn’t even know how people would think about death here. And that…wasn’t okay, really. But I thought, if I just put one foot in front of the other, if I just thought about what I _did_ know, and if I made a new place to belong, then eventually it’d be okay. And I thought I still knew some stuff. Even if I didn’t know how the world worked, I thought I could be sure of right and wrong, sticking with your side, fighting for your army… I thought that would be constant.

 

“And then DC happened, and it wasn’t. Nothing was. I felt like I really couldn’t trust _anything_ , any structure. And it was everything I thought, too. I’d always thought I was loyal to SHIELD, and then I just wasn’t, just like that. I had no place to belong, all over again. And I thought about those helicarriers, and how I would’ve just watched them go up, how I didn’t stop Fury because I trusted him…

 

And then there was Bucky. Just all of a sudden, in the middle of that, this…whole other thing. This whole other _world_ , just dropped into the middle of this one. And I couldn’t make them mesh. I’d always trusted Bucky, I knew that before I started questioning things and… Tony, when I said he _was_ my friend, I didn’t mean you weren’t. I meant that he _was_ my friend, before, that was… I just couldn’t question everything. That’s not an excuse, but… there was just this point where I really didn’t know what to do, and I found myself thinking, Bucky. You know that one….”

 

The wristband beeped again. If it weren’t made of Vibranium Tony would’ve torn it off and stamped on it by now.

 

“When it came to The Accords, I was just thinking of those helicarriers. Which, looking back, is so simplistic... But I just didn’t trust anything, by that point. It felt like they were being put forward in bad faith, as a punishment for our failings, and I could just see myself being drawn into another shady organisation that I couldn’t trust. And when they came after Bucky, it just felt like it was all coming true. It wasn’t that it was Wanda they’d arrested, it could have been anyone – it was just this feeling like I was about to watch them launch those helicarriers again. It felt like another time I could just let an injustice, or a threat happen because a faceless board told me to… Like all these people were telling me all these different things, and there were all these threats from all directions, and I had a minute to pick something, and I picked Bucky. I picked not having to think about it, just going with the most basic thing I knew.”

 

The wristband beeped. Still wrong.

 

“And, of all of it, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell you about your parents because I couldn’t bare you finding out. I couldn’t bare you being that miserable, and I couldn’t bare you being that angry at Bucky because I wouldn’t know what to say. And I called that protecting you, which was selfish. I really _didn’t_ know I was doing that… And then, when I found out what Zemo had asked Bucky,  and I jumped to the wrong conclusion… I should’ve called you then. I just… honestly, I thought you’d argue with me. And as it turns out, you’d’ve been right. But at the time I just wanted to go with it, I felt like I had to go with it – and I _know_ I’ve called you out for that exact same thing.

 

I was just thinking that, when we found the super soldiers and solved that problem, when I could tell you what had happened, I thought it would all be okay. I thought when people realised why we did it, The Avengers would be okay, like they always had been. I never thought anyone would get hurt in Germany. I never thought there wouldn’t be super soldiers in Siberia. I never thought the thing with your parents… I know I should have.”

 

Tony knew how Steve felt. Even without an alien artefact, Tony was sure he knew how Steve felt. And it wasn’t until then that he realised; he’d never known how Steve felt. He’d spent so long looking, theorising, wondering. There had been times he’d been sure he’d worked it out. But never once had he looked at Steve and just felt like he understood.

 

“Why didn’t you _say_ any of this?” Tony exhaled, somewhere between exasperated and aghast.

“I know, I should’ve called you before – I should never have sent that stupid letter-”

“I don’t even _mean_ that – I mean _any_ of it. Being lost, being confused, any of it. You would _never_ talk to me.”

“Because…” Steve sighed. A blush began to colour his cheeks “Because at first, I didn’t even know you, and…you made me anxious. You were so bold, and there, and so ready to leap right into battle, and I was always a step behind, trying to work out what was going on. I never knew what you were going to say, I didn’t understand it half the time, I didn’t know what I was supposed to say back. I couldn’t talk to you then.”

 

The wristband beeped again. That one might’ve been accurate.

 

“And then, when I got to know you… I was already Captain America, I’d _been_ Captain America for the whole time we’d been talking. That was who you liked, or…” The blush deepened “That’s who you knew, and, I dunno, I felt maybe I owed it to you to be what I’d lead you think I was. I didn’t know what to…how to.. Oh, this all sounds so stupid” He surrendered, obviously exhausted. “I just thought I was meant to be more together than that.”

 

The wristband beeped. That one was definitely accurate. In fact, Tony was so distraught by now that he was amazed it hadn’t started sounding a siren. Because he _remembered_ all that. He remembered those moments when Steve would laugh at one of his snide comments, or slip into the first person while they were talking philosophically about death, or mutter something sarcastic to him. Tony remembered _knowing_ he was seeing, wanting so much to hold onto it, being so hurt and confused when Steve corrected himself and walked away… But it _had_ always been that, hadn’t it?

 

Tony wished so much he’d asked.

 

And not only because it would have saved so much pain. Tony’s remorse had nothing to do with Siberia, or The Accords – and that, in itself, was a revelation. It had been _so_ long since Tony thought about anything other than what had happened, he’d almost forgotten his life before. But before all that, and besides all that, Tony realised that he’d made a dreadful mistake too. A completely separate, unrelated mistake, that Steve would never have seen to call him out on, that he hadn’t seen until this moment.

 

The wristband started beeping, rapidly.

_You might want to think about leaving the situation, calming yourself down however you can_

 

Tony thought, _fine._

 

He was changing this situation, right _now._

 

“They aren’t two separate people, Steve” Tony let himself sound outright sympathetic now, fully committed to it.

“I know…” Steve spoke softly, embarrassed.

“I don’t think you do. I don’t think you get what I’m saying here. When you crash a plane into the ice to save the world, or you take on a chitauri army, or the whole of SHIELD – that’s all still _you_. Those things all happened, they were that scary and painful, you still had to make a real choice to do that. You talk as though Captain America really is just a television show and you have to spend all your free time acting a certain way so the kids won’t know it isn’t real. But it was real in the first place. You making a mistake or not doing it next time or swearing at a party doesn’t make any of that any less impressive – nothing can take that away from you.”

 

The beeping stopped.

 

“I think you think if I loved you for any of that it would be me loving Captain America instead of you – but who wouldn’t love you for that?”

 

_Playing a bit fast and loose with the L word there, Stark._

“And why would _anyone_ have to choose? Why do you have to choose? Why shouldn’t I love someone who would take on Ultron _and_ make a snarky comment about Fury? Why shouldn’t I love someone who would stay on Sokovia _and_ think those fucking memorial services were boring?”

 

_Well, there isn’t another word, is there?_

 

“And you don’t have to make it all fit, you don’t have to package it up so that people understand it. And it doesn’t ruin _everything_ if you make a mistake, and it doesn’t ruin _anything_ if you’re human. You don’t have to _be_ anything, you can be _you_ , Steve. That is enough. If you would just _be…_ Jesus, if _that’s_ not enough, what hope for the rest of the world?”

 

And Tony looked at those beautiful lips, slightly parted now. Steve’s face, so much more open and honest than he’d ever seen it. Even prettier.

 

“And… I’m sorry.”

 

“What? Why?” Steve’s expression immediately creased into confusion.

“Because…because I think I did it, too.” Tony admitted “Looking back on the last six months, at least, I think I tried to make you fit like that. Maybe… for a lot longer. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t be sure. I just assumed I knew your side of things, that it was simple – because I’m an idiot.” He sighed. “And I wished so much that I’d tried, before all this…”

“I’ve treated you _terribly_.” Steve breathed

“Yeah, you have” Tony agreed, but gently. “But, no matter what you were doing to me, I always saw all the other things you did, how brave and sweet you are, I knew that was you…and I knew that you kept turning away from me, and I just assumed I knew what that meant. I assumed you just didn’t like me because of all the… UnCaptain America.” He gestured to himself “I assumed you must just think I was expendable for a higher cause, because why else would Captain America-”

“ _Tony_ , I-”

“No, I’m sorry, for that one.” Tony cut him off, kindly. He exhaled, softly “You know, one of the things that hurt me the most was the thought that you didn’t _trust_ me with all that stuff about Bucky? Like, I must’ve met Captain America’s standard for that, proven I’d always help him… And it never occurred to me that someone who I knew was that brave and sweet might have a different reason. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t be making every choice, stoically. I did it, too. I didn’t think about the things I should have known – and I should have known you were struggling. Because why wouldn’t you be? And I am sorry for that.”

 

Tony hadn’t realised that he’d stepped closer, or Steve had. But he was right there now, less than an arm’s length away.

 

“I know I can’t ask you to forgive me-”

“I forgive you” Tony cut him off. Because he did.

 

He forgave him.

 

And saying it felt like finally telling your parents you’d gotten yourself into real trouble. Tony couldn’t believe that something he’d been so reluctant to part with had felt so good to say. It was a dizzying, bodily relief to say the words. He looked at Steve, and he didn’t hate him. He didn’t want him to suffer, he didn’t need him to keep feeling guilty. And, all of a sudden, there weren’t all those questions and arguments in his head. He understood. Like letting go of a heavy weight, coming in from a snowstorm, the first taste of food in a week. He felt slightly giddy.

 

_I forgive you_.

 

Steve’s mouth literally fell open, and Tony just smiled. And Tony had just started to realise that he had _no_ idea what to say next, that he’d _never_ thought about what would happen after-

 

And then Steve took a step closer, and his arms closed around Tony, and then Tony was there against his chest.

 

Tony hadn’t realised how long it had been since he’d touched him. How odd it was, really, to have been around Steve for days and not laid a hand on his shoulder, or had Steve swat at him for something, or for one of them to have to tackle the other out of the way… He’d known this skin so well, once. He knew this skin. He knew these arms, this body, that smell.

 

God he’d _missed_ him.

 

And when Tony raised his head again, there was nothing other than that moment. Just Steve’s face, and his hands on the small of Tony’s back, and that static between them. And then Steve _smiled._ And now that there wasn’t everything else, just for a minute, now that there was just what Tony knew and how he felt and how things really were…

 

They could never be what they were.

 

…But could they be _something_? Still?

 

“Well” Tony said quietly, still in Steve’s arms. “This is all…spaceship…”

“…spaceship?” Steve queried. Then he saw the sudden worry on Tony’s face, the fact that he was looking over Steve’s shoulder now.

 

Steve turned to look out of the window behind him. The streak of light against the sky, the shape at the centre of all the smoke in the Palace grounds.

 

“Oh right. Spaceship.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - possibly more awful techno babble. I'm so sorry.

They both ran to the corridor without another word, and followed the sound of general commotion. The entire palace had apparently been alerted, and everyone from the technical staff to the Dora Milaje had joined the throng marching outside. Somewhere in the central corridor Tony spotted Shuri, and shouted for her attention.

 

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” He started without ceremony, falling into line next to her. She shook her head.

“It appeared in the sky at 500 kilometres, out of nowhere. Reports from the palace patrol say there was a flash of light. Nothing on our boarder surveillance” She shorthanded, slightly breathless with the effort of keeping up with the crowd. “We have no idea what they are.”

 

Tony made a point of keeping her within grabbing distance all the way through to the palace gardens, where it seemed the whole of Wakanda had gathered in a circle around the strange metal container. It was a blunt rectangular shape, maybe the size of a house, shimmering with the heat it was giving off. The ground beneath it was scorched but not dented, as though it had come to a gentle stop.

 

Everything was eerily quiet. Tony didn’t dare take his eyes off that thing for a second, but still he knew, Vision, and Wanda, and Nat and Sam were all there in that crowd. For everything, that was still a comfort. And then, beside him, he felt Steve take a subtle step forward, a subconscious instinct to get in front of everyone else, to tackle whatever it was head on.

 

Captain America would never run from a fight, never look for a short cut or a fall guy or an excuse not to suffer this – because Steve wouldn’t. And Tony loved him for that.

 

Forgiveness is an ending, not a beginning.

 

Forgiveness is always something you do for yourself, rather than the person who wronged you – if it’s any other way, it isn’t forgiveness. Forgiveness is about what _you_ can make your peace with, what you understand, what you won’t lose sleep turning over in your mind anymore. You can’t forgive as a gift, you can’t forgive because it’s convenient, you can’t even forgive because you long for the peace it would bring you. It happens when those conditions are met, whatever it takes to get there, and when that happens it brings something to an _end._

 

There are no guarantees that there is anything after that fact.

 

Tony could, theoretically, have forgiven _Wanda_. He could accept that she felt bad now, however she got there, and that there was nothing more she could do. He could come to understand that she’d done what she had because she was a selfish, spiteful, arrogant person and he could even move on from thinking about it. None of that would mean he liked her, or wanted anything to do with her, or that he’d ever feel he owed her anything. It would just mean he stopped thinking about it. It would just be an end.

 

Forgiving Steve could just be an end. It could be an end to wondering why, to scripting what he wished he could say, to hating Steve. It didn’t have to be the start of anything.

 

But it could be.

 

Because nothing can start before the other thing finished. And Tony had _never_ really thought the other thing would finish. It had been a daydream, the hypothetical end to the misery that, in reality, he’d just been hoping to learn to live with. He’d never even thought about how it could happen. He’d never gone further than hopelessly wishing it could. And now that it had – and so completely, so quickly… He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, all of a sudden. Just… in general.

 

But he couldn’t think about any of that now, because one side of the alien vessel had just slid away from the frame, and was slowly raising to reveal…

 

Three of them, at first. Tall, humanoid creatures, with a strange grey skin tone and long, spindly limbs. From this distance their facial features seemed to be in roughly the ‘right’ places, although their necks looked too slender to support their heads… When they started walking out of the ship they headed in Tony’s direction, and behind them appeared five more, and then five more, and then five more. Tony could feel everyone around him brace, adopting battle positions and gripping weapons, as the delegation moved closer.

 

He heard T’Challa’s voice to his left, first in Xhosa then in English, demanding to know who they were and what they wanted. There was an awkward delay before they acknowledged it, like a news anchor reporting via satellite link. And then, eventually, one of the first three spoke.

 

“We are the negotiating party of the Abadian Military Republic, here to formally respond to your declaration of war.”

 

Well, thought Tony. At least they’re being polite about it.

 

*

 

Steve had seen some things in his lifetime, but this particular invasion might have been the most surreal of all.

 

The whole of Wakanda seemed thrown by the aliens’ unconventional approach. Immediately, formations had formed within the crowd. Armies and specialists trained to react and armed to kill – but none of them knew how to handle this. There was no obvious sign of aggression, no attack to counter, no justification for tackling their visitors as yet.

 

Eventually, T’Challa had actually invited them in.

 

And Steve had thrown Tony a questioning glance without even thinking about it, and Tony had just shrugged, _que sera sera._ It was significant because it was inconsequential. Because less than twenty four hours ago, Steve couldn’t believe he would ever share anything inconsequential with Tony again. He couldn’t foresee a moment that wasn’t layered with unspoken hurt and unresolved arguments. As he watched Tony turn to follow the delegation inside he thought, _please don’t die._

 

_I’m sure it would be a great twist. It might even, amazingly, be a new level of awful. But, please, don’t take him from me now_.

 

They ended up gathering in one of the larger conference rooms. Their impromptu cabinet comprised of Steve, Tony, Nat, Wanda, Vision, Sam, T’Challa, Shuri, Okoye, as well as at least twenty representatives of Wakanda that Steve didn’t recognise. The entire alien party had followed them, which left both sides too large to sit on one side of a table. So they had grouped at one side of the room and waited for their guests to group on the other, and then they all just looked at one another for a few minutes. Finally, T’Challa spoke.

 

“Let me assure you, we have no quarrel with your people. We have made no declaration of war.”

“No one wants a quarrel with the Abadian Military Republic” The same alien spoke, in the same professional tone “But some actions must be considered a declaration of war none the less.”

“And what is it that we have done, that you must take as a declaration of war?” T’Challa asked calmly.

“You, or someone in your command, has attempted to sabotage the Abadian Battle Fleets’ primary power source, and in so doing, endangered our entire campaign.” The apparent spokesperson explained “And, although you have been unsuccessful, we cannot allow a potential weakness to maintain – we are not a vindictive people, in spite of what you may have heard, but we are duty bound to respond. And, as is the way of the AMR, we intend to do it fairly.”

 

Just hearing ‘power source’, Tony was convinced it was the same aliens they’d been researching all week. In all honesty, he’d been convinced of it anyway. Surely even his life wasn’t so fucked up that there could have been a totally unrelated alien invasion right now?

 

“So you’re the ones using the artefact to harvest empathic energy from Earth?” Shuri clarified, knowing which were her points to answer.

“Artefact?” The alien queried, and so Shuri brought up a holographic image of the slab. “So, you’ve disrupted the system via a transference hub?”

“We haven’t disrupted the system _at all_.” Shuri corrected “We don’t even understand what this thing is. We’ve done nothing more than take readings – which we did because of disruption _caused_ by your system.”

“The recent problems were unfortunate” The alien conceded. “But unavoidable. There are protections built into the system, designed to stop these overloads from happening. Protections that have worked for thousands of years. If circumstances have led to issues in spite of that, it is regrettable, but we cannot abandon an entire campaign because of a little localised disruption.”

“It wasn’t _a little-_ ”

“Even so” The alien cut her off, coldly. Tony felt a little chill run up his spine, thinking of the reportedly vindictive military republic he may have been fuelling for the last twenty years. What had he allowed to happen? But this wasn’t the time to consider that.

 

“How does it work?” Tony asked, authoritatively. The alien turned to look at him.

“That isn’t of relevance to the terms of war-”

“Of course it is, if the AMR are so reasonable” Tony challenged, trying to remember what the A stood for “How can we answer the charge of sabotage if we don’t even know what we’re supposed to have done?” The alien just looked at him. “Okay, why me?” Tony tried again, after the moment.

“The system selects its own subjects” The alien said perfunctorily, like they were trying to disregard the question.

“By what criteria?”

“Emotional intelligence and general levels of suffering.” The alien answered, matter-of-factly “Which is intended as one of the safeguards.”

“Emotional intelligence?” Tony frowned. _Me?_

“The idea being that anyone with sufficient emotional intelligence to be selected would be too emotionally intelligent to completely succumb to their emotions and cause overloads like this.”

“And what do you mean by _emotional intelligence_?” Tony pressed.

“Often subjects are selected at times when they are giving active thought to their emotions. Usually while undergoing religious training, spiritual awaking, that sort of thing.”

 

_Making JARVIS. This thing selected me 23 years ago – when I was making JARVIS. I’ve been thinking about my AIs, one way or another, since then._

 

“Those people will feel sufficient misery for our needs, but are usually capable of understanding their feelings well enough to cope.” The alien added, and Tony almost laughed.

“So, if the disruption was just me being all kinds of special, why do you think we sabotaged anything?”

“Your disruption is not our concern” The alien told him “And we’re satisfied that your actions are deliberate. We are only here to draw up the terms of war.”

 

“Excuse me” T’Challa intervened, because the aliens had refused to give him their names “But if you have come here to negotiate war, and you say that you are reasonable people, then surely we should at least be able to answer to our crime?”

“For what purpose?”

“For the purpose of fairness” T’Challa said simply. It was hard to tell if the alien was considering it.

 

“We know that an artificial element was added to the system. We guess that you were attempting to replace the subject” The alien gestured to Tony “with a decoy, in order to completely cut the power supply and shut the system down. If that was your intent, it seems pertinent to tell you, it cannot possibly work. The system will not accept a subject that is not alive, and all living things feel enough to keep the system active.”

“We have done no such thing” Shuri frowned, thoroughly confused “We haven’t even attempted any such thing, not even close.”

“The readings don’t lie, and I’m not minded to argue it – it is only as a courtesy that I discuss it. And to make it perfectly clear that your attempts to hurt our empire is futile.”

 

Tony felt his mind running off in two distinct directions – what he knew about energy systems, and what he knew about the situation.

 

_…in order to completely cut off the power supply_

_…all living things feel enough to keep the system active_

_…Good guys never call themselves ‘empire’_

He understood, suddenly, a basic theory underlying that alien system. Thinking back to the readings, it all made sense. It would need to have a source of power in order to find a source of power – it wouldn’t let him go until it had latched onto someone else, because it couldn’t latch on to someone else without him to power it…

“What if I died?” Tony asked, suddenly.

“It has been tried, and those lives have been wasted” The alien responded, as though Tony had been making a suggestion “The system will always save enough residual energy and will always have another candidate in mind”

 

_But if it latched onto something that literally felt nothing_

_But it would have to be something living_

_And all living things feel something…_

_But if there was a living thing that felt nothing, the system could latch onto it_

_But how would you convince it to select it?_

 

“But we _haven’t-_ ” Shuri tried again, but Tony cut her off

“And what makes you so sure it’s a decoy? How do you know the system isn’t just latching onto another living person?”

“Because no living person attains that level of emotional intelligence that suddenly.” The alien explained, with an edge of impatience now, “Because there is small chance that you and another person elsewhere on earth experienced a moment of happiness at the exact same time. And because the system didn’t start to transfer from that you to that person – it isn’t able to identify the decoy as something separate to yourself.”  

 

And immediately, Tony understood.

 

“Now, if you choose to forfeit the neg-”

“What if I could _prove_ it was another person?” Tony cut the alien off. “What it I could show you who it is?” The alien appeared to hesitate.

“Can you?” They questioned, sounding intrigued.

“What if I can?”

 

The alien turned to his left and made a teeth-settingly high screeching noise. The alien next to him screeched back. _One hell of a language you got there_ , Tony thought, resisting the urge to cover his ears. Eventually the noise stopped, and the alien turned back to him.

 

“The Abadian Military Republic are, above all else, reasonable people. The word should be shared, we will always look for an alternative to war.”

“…I’ll tweet it later” Tony deadpanned “So what if I can show you the other person?”

“It may offer you an alternative to war.” The alien agreed “But, in all likelihood, it would cost you _your_ life.”

 

“No!” Steve gasped, before he could stop himself. Tony whipped around to look at him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, quickly. There was a flash of panic in Steve’s eyes, and Tony turned back before Steve could say anything. “Why would I die? What alternative?”

“ _If_ it proves to be the case that this was an innocent error, or indeed a fluke of nature, we would have no political need for war. And if we could remove this glitch from the system, we would have no procedural need for war.” The alien seemed to muse. “We _could_ reset the system… but doing that requires us to nominate an appropriate candidate ourselves. Ordinarily, we would have no way of knowing who to select– we have no way of knowing who are potential candidates until they are connected, and anyone connected to the system would be killed by the reset.”

“Does it have to be a potential candidate to work, then?”

“Well, we could connect _any_ sentient being, but the cost to us of choosing an unproductive source would be unacceptable. If we selected someone without sufficient emotional intelligence, or who didn’t suffer, our war efforts would be underfunded.”

“But if you knew who the other person was-”

“If this decoy is a real person, selected by the system, we could be assured they would be a good candidate. We could manually connect to him or her. The empathic transfer surge at that point would likely be fatal to anyone previously connected – but it would allow the system to continue, without disruption, and with no need for war.” The alien finished proudly.

 

Tony tired to think, which was hard with Steve’s panicked breathing just behind him. He had an idea, like a grenade in his hands. Only seconds to work out how to use it, knowing he could be about to kill himself – or worse – with his own damn plan. But he _knew_ how this system worked, now. Not the minute detail, perhaps, but the grand idea. Somewhere in his mess of emotional intelligence and energy research and engineering, he understood this. He’d even been pushing the aliens towards this very suggestion – and now they’d made it. This would be a gamble.

 

And Steve would have to trust him. Really trust him. And Tony would have to trust Steve to know him, to get what he was doing. And if any of that didn’t happen, or if these aliens were lying to him, if there was some element of empath technology he didn’t understand or some other factor he’d not even considered, then he was about to get this very wrong. Or, alternatively, he could keep his mouth shut and watch the world fall into war, when all the time he’d known the answer…

 

And he thought of Steve, running after an army of Siberian Super Soldiers.

 

All he had to do was trust Tony.

 

All Tony had to do now was trust Steve.

 

“Would it hurt the other person?” Tony asked, gravely.

“…highly unlikely. The system hasn’t connected to them, hasn’t disconnected from you. But, that wouldn’t be a concern, because under those circumstances the system would just register the death and begin self-selection”

“I wasn’t thinking about the effect on your system” Tony told him darkly “I won’t do this if it’s going to hurt my friend.”

“The other person is a friend of yours, then?”

“…Someone I recently shared a moment if happiness with.” Tony spoke, as though to himself.

 

“Tony-” Steve spoke, desperately, but Tony shut him up with a glare.

“ _How_ would you connect to them? Would I have to take you to them?” Tony tuned back to the aliens.

“No, you could connect empathically.”

“Empathically.”

“Think about the person and feel really intently.” The alien almost sounded as though they were mocking him “although, if you’ve recently shared a moment of happiness, the connection really should be enough.”

“So, I tell you who this other person is, you manually connect to them. Once the system connects to them, it let’s me go – probably killing me in the process.” Tony said, slow and measured.

“Correct”

“And, after that, this persons misery goes on funding your war effort, the power surges stop happening, and you leave us alone?”

“Correct”

 

“So do we do it here?” Tony asked, with a tone of finality.

“Tony, please-” Steve begged.

“No, Tony-” Shuri tried, at the same time. Tony was sure he even heard Sam pipe up, in the background. He waved them all quiet. He kept his eyes on the alien.

“So do we do it here?” He repeated.

“No, the necessary equipment is on our ship-”

 

“Tony, are you really about to _kill_ yourself?” Steve interrupted, desperately.

“We should at least take the time to investigate this” Shuri added, in the same panicked tone.

“Tony, please don’t do this-”

“Steve” Tony stopped him. Then he turned and looked at him kindly. “You _know_ me.” Steve stilled to a reluctant silence.

 

“But, yeah, I’m killing myself” He carried on cheerfully, turning his attention back to the delegation “So, as you’re so damn _reasonable_ , would you allow me a last request?”

“Such as?”

“Can my boyfriend come with me?” He asked, making a mental note of Steve’s soft gasp so that he could think about it later “I don’t want to die on my own.”

“Fine” The alien answered dismissively. “Would you like to go now?” Tony looked back at Steve

 

“Are you coming, then?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...further techno babble. I'm still sorry. 
> 
> Also, after all the planning and worrying over this, i think this is kinda where I see if I stick the landing - so believe me when I say I really, really, really, hope you like it. :-/
> 
> But, either way, thank you all SO much for seeing this thing through, for all your amazing support and feedback, without which this thing would have long been abandoned. All comments are, as ever, gratefully received.

Tony didn’t know why he’d said ‘boyfriend’, really. He’d vaguely been thinking of making the situation look more legitimate, that the aliens would question it less. That it would be less obvious that Tony was worried his plan wouldn’t work without Steve. And it might have made it easier to cover, if he had to whisper something to Steve…

 

And hey, if he did die right now, at least he got to say it once.

 

He turned to Shuri, who was just staring at him with wide, incredulous eyes. He pressed his phone firmly into her palm before she could say a word, and the disbelief melted into confusion.

“I need you to _take care_ of FRIDAY for me, okay?” Tony told her, earnestly. She blinked at him,

“…okay…”

“But you need to promise me, that will be the _first_ thing you do, okay? It’s really important to me.” He pressed, adding as much of an edge to his voice as he dared. Shuri nodded, slowly. “Good girl.” Tony smiled, and then, before any emotional stuff could happen, he walked over to the alien delegation.

 

They were already filing out of the room, apparently oblivious to the significance of this moment for a dying man. Tony felt another shudder. These ‘empaths’, this military empire, thought so little of human emotion it was tangible. Somewhere, he knew that stopping them was more important than saving his own life, or Wakanda, or even earth.

 

Tony waited, pointedly, until Steve was by his side before he followed them.

 

*

 

Steve _was_ Captain America.

 

Steve was able to walk back across the palace grounds, even though his legs felt week. Steve could force through pain, and fear, and the sheer awfulness of the situation, because he had to. That’s why Captain America always did it – because Steve did.

 

Also, Captain America was _dying_ right then. Because Steve was.

 

Steve could scan the horizon, watching the Dora Milaje take their places and noting how the armies were lining up – just in case. He could think about battle contingencies and escape routes at the same damn time as thinking _please, God, don’t take him from me. Please_

 

At the same time as remembering Tony calling Steve his boyfriend.

 

_Steve. You know me._

 

And, yeah, he did – Tony _was_ the one to make the sacrifice play, to fly into a wormhole, to blow Sokovia up underneath, to come to Germany rather than leaving Steve to get what he’d deserved. Tony had been doing it all his life, long before Steve ever said that stupid, spiteful thing. Tony absolutely _would_ sacrifice himself right now if he had to.

 

But then…

 

_I think I’d just cut the wire_

 

And, yeah, he would. And it had taken Steve years to realised what a brilliant, wonderful quality that was. The talent, maybe unique to Tony Stark, to look at impossible odds and think, _no, I’m not having that_. To think outside the rules, to _imagine_ a solution out of nowhere, to know that no one had more right than him to decide what was and wasn’t possible. Tony had never let anyone else decide his options. Afghan Terrorists told him he could choose between dying and making them a bomb – and he chose neither. He built himself a robot and escaped. Killian told him he could save Pepper or the President – and he chose both. He sent a remote control suit – a suit he used to save fourteen people, after he’d just been told the maximum was four.

 

Was he about to die, right in front of Steve? Was all this an act, a double bluff, to stop Steve from trying to save him? Or was this all a plan to save the day in spectacular fashion?

 

_You just have to trust him_.

 

They reached the spaceship. Before he even looked, Steve knew the expression he’d see on Tony’s face. The world might be poised for war, and Tony might be about to die – but a spaceship was a spaceship. And sure enough, Tony was gazing up at it in wonder, his brow slightly creased by hypothesising and observing and _thinking_. No fear. Steve just watched him watch, the whole time the enormous door was sliding free.

 

_Please Tony, don’t ever leave me._

 

*

 

Shuri had raced back to her lab as fast as her legs would carry her.

 

She’d called back to T’Challa, something she couldn’t really remember and might not have been comprehensible. Something that was meant to convey yes, I know we’re in a state of emergency and I have to set up our defences-

 

But she had to do this first.

 

She had no idea what Tony was thinking. She couldn’t begin to imagine where he’d pulled his theory from, whether the spark of inspiration had come from thinking about the physical mechanics of the system or the software or the concept of emptions, or AI itself… She was never sure what that man was thinking about, until it burst out of his mouth.

 

But if he’d told her to do this, there must be a reason.

 

She found the programme and installed it without difficulty. It took an agonising three minutes for all the files to run, the base code occasionally flashing up on her main monitor like an alien language. _He made her. He made her think. He gave her life._ Because some things aren’t about progress, and they aren’t about clever – somethings are about something else entirely.

 

And then, as if from nowhere.

 

“Hi there.”

 

“Hi, I’m Shuri” and she actually waved.

“I remember you” FRIDAY reassured her, warmly “You’re working with the boss”

“He asked me to take care of you. He-”

“Entering total submission” FRIDAY informed her, cheerily, as soon as the words left her mouth. Shuri jumped.

“Total submission?” She asked, but FRIDAY didn’t answer her.

 

She looked back to her monitor and began frantically opening files, trying to find what she’d done. As soon as she got to her main desk operating system, she saw what was going on. FRIDAY, who had been installed as a separate system to run alongside her equipment, was now infiltrating every file, system and server connected to her lab. FRIDAY was coding herself into Shuri’s security monitors, her lab robots, even her snack fridge. Which Shuri might have minded, if she’d had the time to think about it. As it was, she was too busy trying to work out what Tony Stark was getting at.

 

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Shuri watched, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet, willing the progress to move more quickly. She answered several enquiries from her brother and didn’t remember a single one. She checked and rechecked every readout available to her, not really knowing what she was looking for.

 

“There, submission mode on” FRIDAY sang, at long last.

“Oh! And, uh, what is ‘Submission Mode’?” Shuri asked, eagerly.

“It’s an emergency procedure the boss designed after Ultron” FRIDAY explained “If communication systems, or technological networks, are compromised, I can infiltrate everything first and keep it under your control”

“Someone is trying to hack my lab?” Shuri frowned.

“Like he ever tells me anything” FRIDAY joked. Shuri could swear she heard her shrug. Shuri looked back at the monitor, and tried to remember everything Tony had said in that ‘negotiation’. The questions he’d asked, the conditions he’d set…

 

“I feel intrigued. Interested to meet you. I’ve got a good feeling about you” FRIDAY said, out of nowhere.

“Thank you” Shuri frowned automatically. _What is going on with this thing?_

“I like the young ‘uns, they give me hope” FRIDAY went on, warmly “You gotta feel good when you’re at the beginning of something” And then Shuri remembered.

 

_“You programme what they would think, if they were to feel. You DO programme them to think. In their own speech patterns”_

 

This was how Tony had programmed FRIDAY to feel. Shuri just knew it. This was how FRIDAY could approximate a human reaction, even though she… _it_ , couldn’t feel anything, per se. When she realised that, she could almost have been distracted by listening to it, she was so fascinated by how the process worked…

 

But why is FRIDAY doing this now? Why does Tony want her to?

 

_What are you playing at, Stark?_

 

*

 

The spaceship proved to be something of a disappointment, or at least the part of it they got to see.

 

The large room they were directed to was mostly empty. It had a bare, industrial feel, the insides of the walls looking exactly the same as the outer casing. There was a large metal disc, maybe a meter across, set into the floor, and what looked like a mixing desk a few feet behind it. That was it.

 

Only two of the aliens had followed them inside. One of them went immediately to the mixing desk while the other, their spokesperson, just looked at them, expectantly.

“Are you ready?” They asked, conversationally. Like this whole thing was nothing.

“One minute.” Tony told them, and then turned to Steve, and threw his arms around him.

 

Steve pulled him in immediately, pressing Tony closer with the whole length of his arms. And Tony buried his head into Steve’s neck, and tried to convince himself that this was why he said that whole ‘boyfriend’ thing, and whispered

 

“The system isn’t able to identify the decoy as something separate to myself”

 

And he felt Steve’s fingers flex against his skin, and he thought, _at least I know he heard me._ He just had to hope Steve understood him… and, most of all, he had to hope that Steve would trust him. That when it came to it, Steve would actually do it… but, Tony had so many more tests to pass before he even got to that. He had to focus.

 

So he leant away from Steve, hands still on Steve’s waist, and smiled at him. But Steve didn’t smile back. He looked at Tony with such an open, honest longing, the most human expression he’d ever seen on _anyone_ , much less Steve. And Steve was beautiful, now more than he’d ever been, and even now it would have been so easy to get lost in it for a minute…

 

And then Steve kissed him.

 

It was so soft, so tender and unhurried. So immediately and completely _right_. Tony heard the sigh that escaped him as he leant into it, letting Steve gently part his lips, running his hands up Steve’s back without even thinking about it. And then he felt Steve’s hand on the back of his neck, and it was such an _intimate_ feeling, so affectionate and caring, that Tony suddenly felt more vulnerable than he would have if he’d been completely naked. The shiver it sent through him reached every part of him. And all the while there were those perfect lips, this perfect kiss…

 

“Is this a process?” The alien queried, as though they really had no idea what Tony and Steve were doing. Tony snapped back, suddenly. _Alien invasion_ , he reminded himself, his whole body still pressed against Steve, the taste of Steve still in his mouth, the innocent amazement on Steve’s face… “Are there multiple parts to this?”

 

Tony managed to tear his eyes away from Steve to glare at the alien. But, no, he thought. This is good. This was further evidence that Tony had read these bastards right – they didn’t _understand_ human emotions. Tony was relying on that.

 

“Ideally, yes” Tony answered, reluctantly stepping away from Steve. His whole body was cold with his absence. “But that’s it for now. We can do this thing. Dying time.”

 

“You don’t expect that we would take your word for any of this” The alien told him simply. And Tony thought, _no._ Tony was smart enough to think the aliens would have been smart enough to have safeguards. He just had to hope he was smart enough to trick them.

 

“Firstly, your claim that this other element was chosen by the system. We’ll have to verify that. In case you had any idea of convincing us to connect to an inferior subject.”

“And how do we do that?” Tony asked, hoping to God he already knew the answer.

“Empathic deception detection” The alien responded, and Tony felt an inch of relief.

“Like a polygraph.” Tony confirmed.

“If you stand on the circle” The alien gestured to the disc. “We’ll ask you some questions about this so-called other person, and then we’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”

 

_No, you won’t_.

 

Tony had to have confidence that he understood _this_. An advanced alien system had selected him from six billion people, because he was good at _this_. He had to trust his instinct, his trained and tested instinct, that told him – these aliens don’t understand emotions. These aliens know all about them, as a reading, as an energy source. But they don’t feel them. They don’t understand the contradictions of them, their irrational nature. If they did, they’d have handled the whole negotiation differently. Tony, the man who had programmed a computer how to respond to individual people in character, could see that the aliens were trying to be intimidating. Like a rough copy of an AI that Tony would have been able to make better. They were trying to engage emotionally, but falling just a bit short of the mark. Because, okay, Tony might have been a total dunce when it came to his own emotions – but he knew emotions in general, far better than their ugly guests.

 

This was the test he was most confident of passing.

 

He stood on the circle and waited for them to begin.

 

“Tell us why you’re so sure it’s another person” The alien began simply.

“Because I know for a fact that no one in Wakanda has tried to sabotage your system” Tony gave his carefully considered first answer “If you’re as advanced as you seem to be, and if you’re sure that it can only be a decoy or a person, and I know it isn’t a decoy, then it’s a matter of logic.”

 

Because Tony knew that these aliens thought logically, naturally. That would come easily to them. People from all backgrounds, even superbeings like Vision or Asgardian Gods, tended towards the thought systems that suited them. He’d presented them an argument they could readily accept – and, to make things better, he was actually telling the truth.

 

When the two aliens took a moment to screech at each other, Tony knew, the one at the switchboard was confirming, yes, he’s telling the truth. Because there was no way these aliens understood anything as complex as lying to yourself, holding two conflicting ideas in your head at the same time, denial of true feelings, lying by omission. As long as Tony was genuinely convinced that the words he was saying were true, the aliens would accept it. When the spokesperson turned back to Tony, Tony knew – the next few questions are going to be entirely arbitrary. They’re already convinced. They’ll fit the proof to suit their theories – _if_ Tony could convince himself he was just being honest for a few minutes more.

 

“But you know it’s another person. You know who it is.”

“Well, when you say ‘no one becomes that emotionally aware, that suddenly’, I know of someone that did. I also know that person and I shared a moment of happiness recently – I can even tell you when it was”

 

The trick is, distract them with compelling truths. That’s how Zemo had done it to Steve. That’s how Ultron – W _anda –_ had done it to him. Don’t let them ask their own questions, answer the ones you want them to know about. Make sure it’s something true, so that when they look into it they’re convinced you must be honest. Pick the things that paint the picture you want.

“Would I be right in thinking that this moment of shared happiness happened at around 6:03, 6:05, Wakandan time?”

Because Tony had looked at the wristband when it started beeping rapidly, just briefly. Instinctively, even though he hadn’t cared. But, weirdly enough, even in that half a glance, he’d seen the time on his watch. Surely, I forgive you can’t have been more than two minutes after that?

No, because the alien was appeased. Tony was one hundred per cent sure that the second element was Steve, that he’d been linked to that system the moment he’d touched Tony’s shoulder – and the aliens knew it.

Next test.

“Okay, so you are telling the truth.” The alien agreed, after another nails-on-a-chalkboard conversation with their colleague. “But, we will also test that you aren’t mistaken”

 

It was like someone who had read the human psyche for beginners. Chapter one, sometimes people are telling the truth even though what they say isn’t true. Tony had to concentrate to keep himself from smiling – to keep himself from feeling too smug. Yeah, he’d expected this.

 

“You said you couldn’t see who would be a good candidate.” Tony reminded them, keeping his voice as even as he could. Trying not to think too much about what he was saying. “So how do you intend to test this person? How will you know they are who I think they are?”

 

“We just need to test that this ‘person’ has sufficient emotional response to keep the system alive” The alien explained. And then, obviously intending it to come across as a warning “People have tried to trick the system into latching onto inappropriate living things – animals, neurologically inferior creatures. This test will check that the system will be able to self-sustain. And be aware, if it isn’t, we will declare war immediately. And, even if this person doesn’t have sufficient suffering or emotional intelligence for _our_ needs, as long as they feel enough to connect in the first place, they’ll be sufficient to keep the system active. Once we know who they are, we will immediately kill them and allow the system to select a better candidate once more.” The alien took one step closer “There is no good outcome for you, other than the arrangement we’ve agreed.”

 

And Tony thought, _I am not worried, you will find sufficient emotional response_. He focussed on his isolated confidence of that fact. He made himself feel like a man that wasn’t lying. He did _not_ hope that Shuri had understood him, didn’t even let himself consider the alternative. He didn’t think about her at all. He didn’t think ahead, to the real test. That last test. Would Steve trust him? Did Steve know him, really?

 

Wasn’t the question. All Tony was allowed to think was

 

“Go ahead. Check for feelings, however you do that” All he could think was that he was sure it would work.

 

“It is part of the transfer process” The alien explained, like it was nothing “Once we start this test, if all goes according to plan, it will lead immediately to the connection process.”

“So this is it?” Tony asked, “If I’m right, I die now?”

“Yes” The alien answered, the same as he’d answered any other question.

“What exactly is going to happen?” Tony pressed, instinctively trying to stall. Knowing he had to give Shuri as much time as possible, without even thinking it. Something these aliens had no idea human beings could do.

 

“We’ll ask you to think about this other person” The alien began, and Tony tried not to think _it’s a good job they don’t seem to understand names. That would have made this harder_. “And, assuming you feel anything at all for them, even just knowing who they are, my colleague will be able to find them. The system will check that they are sentient, and, if they are, it will attach itself. Once it has used you to make the connection, it will let you go. In all likelihood, the surge from the new host will happen just _before_ it does that – it’s that power surge that will kill you.”

 

And Tony slipped for just a moment. He allowed himself to think of all the things that could ruin this entire plan. If the alien system didn’t work the way Tony thought it did, if it didn’t connect with other systems and interpret information in the way he assumed, if the link was just fucking _magic_ , or something else he hadn’t thought of… If Steve got it wrong…

 

And he thought of Steve, faced with the prospect of an army of evil super soldiers. Not knowing what he didn’t know. Knowing that every action, even inaction, may have had consequences he couldn’t have prepared for. Tony still thought Steve had gone about it all wrong… But he had to accept, it wasn’t much fun being in this position…

 

_Oh well. Here goes._

 

“So, what, just... do it now?” Tony asked, nervously.

“Yes, we’re set up.” The alien prompted him, sounding impatient again. And Tony took a deep breath, and thought, _please, Steve…_ He tried to keep his voice casual.

 

“What, just… think about Bucky?”

 

*

Steve was so shocked by it, at first, he really thought Tony had gotten his name wrong.

 

Steve knew he was the other element. He’d known the moment he’d heard the aliens say, ‘no living person attains that level of emotional intelligence that suddenly’. And literally everything Tony had said had backed that up. Surely, that’s what Tony had been telling him when he said ‘The system isn’t able to identify the decoy as something separate to myself’…

 

Oh, no, wait. Steve understood what Tony had been saying…

 

“That’s right, anything you know of him” the alien pressed “If you’re as close to him as you think, the link should happen quickly.”

 

But, of course, Tony wasn’t close to Bucky. Tony didn’t even know Bucky. Steve did. That’s why Steve was here, that’s what Tony had been telling him to do. Steve had to feel Bucky for him, and the system wouldn’t know the difference. Bucky _wasn’t_ the other element, but Tony was using Steve to convince these aliens that he was…

 

And, for a split second, he froze.

 

_Tony was telling these alien invaders to connect to Bucky._

_He was using Steve to do it._

_What did that mean? What would happen to either of them?_

_Oh, God, was Tony asking him to choose?_

_Steve. You know me._

 

And just like that, Steve understood something. He didn’t know _anything_ about what was going on – but he _did_ know Tony. He knew Tony wouldn’t make him do that. He _understood_ what he should have done before, he saw what he needed to do now.

 

He had to trust him.

 

_Oh, dear God…_

 

And he thought of Bucky. He just pictured his face, back when they were both idealistic recruits, his cap never quite straight.

 

There was an ear-splitting screech.

 

“Got him” The alien confirmed, “You _are_ very close. This is good. It will help the process.”

 

Steve saw Tony’s shoulders slump just so, a miniscule gesture that Steve _knew_ was relief. So, whatever else, Steve knew he’d understood him. Whatever he’d done, it was what Tony had wanted.

 

_Good_. Steve thought. _This is good._

 

And Tony would have thought that. Oh, the things Tony would have thought then, if he could. But Tony had to concentrate. Tony would think about the monumental thing that had just happened later. He had to get to later first.  

 

“So, was I _mistaken_? Is it a person, that feels?” Tony managed over increasingly shallow breathing.

“We shall see.” The alien said. “Talk to him.”

 

_Surely, you aren’t going to make it as easy for me as that?_

 

They were literally going to code his output, send it to ‘Bucky’, and interpret whatever code they got back.

 

This system _did_ work the way he thought it had.

 

This _was_ going to work.

 

_What if Shuri didn’t set it up yet?_

_What if the system can somehow interpret the difference?_

_What if they can tell the difference?_

 

“Hey, how are you feeling right now?” He had chosen his first question carefully “Are you happy right now?”

 

And there was a short, high squeal from the alien at the mixing desk. Tony felt his mouth fill up with fluid, he realised his heart had been racing for a while.

 

_Have I done it?_

 

“Thank you, that’s very efficient” the alien commented. “The connection process has begun.”

 

Because Tony had known, he’d just _known,_ that these aliens wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a response from Bucky, and a response from an AI integrated with a particularly clever life support system.

He’d _known_ that he’d programmed FRIDAY cleverly enough to trick them. That her responses, on their readout, would look close enough to the quantified readout they were expecting from Bucky.

They thought FRIDAY was alive, right now.

Or, the thought Bucky could _feel_ , right now.

They thought one of them could feel.

 

But a cryogenically frozen person can’t feel. A coma patient, maybe – but cryo-freeze stops all neurological activity, Tony knew.

And FRIDAY can’t feel, per say – she just thinks like she does.

 

“The transfer has begun – you should be disconnected quite quickly hereafter” The alien almost sounded bored. And then, Tony glanced back at Steve.

 

He was, by now, quite sure he _wasn’t_ going to die. But you never know.

 

_What the hell._

 

“I love you, you know.” Tony told him, “I always did. Always”

 

And then, suddenly, everything went dark.

 

*

 

The darkness inside the Spaceship was total, and the screeching was immediate and deafening.

 

Tony leapt backwards instinctively, and then Steve was right there, those broad hands gripping his shoulders. _Safe_.

 

“Woah!” Tony tried yelling over the squealing, to no avail. “Hang on.” He reached for his phone – no, damn, he gave that to Shuri. It’d have to be the watch. A few flicks and the room was illuminated by the cold blue glow on his torch. The aliens were just shapes in the shadows now, both of them by the mixing board, pressing buttons aggressively and gesturing wildly to one another.

 

Whatever Tony had done, it had clearly upset them.

 

“What the hell was that?” Steve whispered.

“If I’m right, I just convinced these guys to override their own system, and force it to connect to the one living thing that can’t feel. Which, hopefully, means that it used me to connect to Bucky, and then when it let me go it had no power source at all, and died.”

“I thought it couldn’t connect to something that couldn’t feel?”

“Yeah, Bucky is getting deeply intimate with an AI at the moment – but I can fix that as soon as we get back.” Tony explained, over a rising tide of elation “And I would’ve avoided using Bucky altogether, but I couldn’t think of a way to make FRIDAY look alive before I thought of a way to make Bucky look awake…” But Steve had been pulling Tony into him as he’d been talking, his hands stroking their way over Tony’s stomach as Tony’s back was pulled close to his chest. He leant in close, the heat of his breath on Tony’s neck sending shivers up his spine, and whispered.

“You extraordinary, brilliant, _clever_ man”

 

Tony felt the brush of Steve’s lips when he spoke. He _felt_ the genuine affection in it. The elation overwhelmed his completely as he remembered that Steve had kissed him… Steve had _trusted_ him. Steve got what he was saying, what he hadn’t been able to explain, and he’d gone with it. Even though it had involved Bucky.

 

And then there was a sudden lurch in the darkness, a wounded shriek, as one of the aliens jumped forward. Tony felt Steve’s grip tighten as the thing raised a spindly arm, and a _whoosh_ as it brandished long, sharp talons. He saw the edges of them glint in the torchlight as they rushed towards him-

Then a sudden, sharp tug, right at the gut, like he’d been yanked back by a tank-

The dull whack of the wall against his back-

Steve, dropping his shoulder, going _towards_ that thing, rolling fluidly to land one solid kick to the aliens head before it could finish it’s swipe-

 

There was a loud, clean _snap_.

 

The shape crumpled in the darkness, instantly and obviously dead.

 

Tony jumped up, immediately thinking of the other one, thinking of how to back Steve up. The light of the torch fell on a shape, moving languidly along the floor. _Rolling._

 

Steve had actually kicked that thing’s head clean off.

 

That was a sobering moment. Even for trained and experienced Avengers, even for members of a military republic, apparently – seeing someone literally decapitate an enemy with a foot will make anyone hesitate.

 

The other alien dropped to its knees.

 

_Well, you would, wouldn’t you?_

 

Tony looked back at Steve, still staring at the head, a look of mild confusion in his eyes. And Tony had _that_ feeling. That weird instinct, when looking at something extra-ordinary, or impossible, or especially awful, to laugh. He tried to contain it. To remember what was really important.

“Are you okay?” He managed.

“Yeah…” Steve said. And then he bit his lip. And Tony just knew, he was doing it too. Trying to contain the exact same smile. He knew, because this was one of those moments. It _felt_ like one of those moments, when Tony could see the Steve that Steve had always hidden from him. The moments when, usually, Steve would shut down suddenly and walk away, and Tony would just assume he’d done something wrong…

 

_He was always just trying to hide. Making sure you never saw him laugh when he thought Captain America wouldn’t._

 

“…I didn’t actually mean to kick it’s head _off…_ ” And there was just a hint of shocked amusement warming his tone then, and a giggle had bubbled over Tony’s lips before he could stop it.

“Sorry! Sorry…” He tried, but it was hopeless. Steve grinned, and then tried to cover it, which just made it worse, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from giggling, even as he said “no, I know that’s… awful…” And it was. It was awful, and they both knew it, but Steve had his face in his hands now trying to stifle himself and Tony wasn’t even bothering.

 

Because things are complicated like that. Some awful things _are_ funny. Just for a minute. When its just you and your friends…

 

Steve lifted his head, pointedly, and took a slow breath. Deliberately collected himself. Tony tried to do the same.

“You have to call T’Challa” He told Steve eventually, his voice still full of laughter “Get him to arrest this lot”

“Hm hm” Steve managed, looking though his pockets for a phone.

 

_And then…._

 

Tony smiled. Which was the first time he’d smiled at ‘and then’ in a long time.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I tried doing NaNoWriMo last year, and ended up concluding that I could never write 50,000 in that short a time- 
> 
> So there you are, Russo Brothers, I am *still* so wound up over CA;CW, I wrote a damn novel over it. And I'm STILL not over it.
> 
> But, also, ahhhh, I can't believe I finished this - thank you all so much for reading it, and for your lovely comments throughout. I really hope you like how it ends :-)

Tony had apparently cut of the power supply _completely._ Which is to say, the aliens hadn’t considered how they’d open the door if this ever happened.

 

Luckily, Tony and Steve had Vision to laser a hole in the side of the ship. And if watching Vision in action wasn’t enough to subdue the rest of the alien party, whatever the one inside was shrieking about seemed to do the trick.

 

_Probably, ‘he kicked Dave’s head off – and then he laughed!’_

 

Tony had decided that all of the aliens were called Dave.

 

He watched the Border Tribe escort seventeen shell-shocked Dave’s back towards the palace, where T’Challa had already arranged for the most secure detention facility to be available. Tony caught a glimpse of Wanda, waiting inside the entrance, overseeing the procession – and he didn’t hate her. He still didn’t like her; in fact, he still disliked her for all the same reasons he always had. But the real difference between disliking someone and hating them is with yourself, not them. It’s a question of how hurt you are. And watching Wanda, now that he wasn’t as hurt as he had been, Tony thought, _I still don’t like you._ But he was at least pleased she was there. He could recognise that having someone that powerful on their side was a good thing right now, like he could recognise that it was better to have Natasha patrolling the scene than not. Even if he was hoping not to bump into her.

 

The rest of the Wakandan armed forces stayed in their formations, prepared for all contingencies, until the aliens had vanished from view. Tony wondered what would happen to them afterwards. He would have liked to know a lot more about them. He would like to know exactly how their technology worked. He was confused as to how a species so ignorant of human emotion had created an energy system that wasn’t. He couldn’t work out how efficient or clever they really were. He was slightly uncomfortable, thinking of what his emotions might have been used to fuel…  

 

But that would have to wait, because right now he had to explain himself to Shuri-

 

Like, _right now,_ apparently.

 

“What the hell was that _?_ ” She demanded, power walking across the lawn to meet them “Why is FRIDAY in my fridge _?_ ”

“I can get FRIDAY out of your fridge” Tony promised her, grinning.

“But what _was_ that?” She asked, baffled “And are you alright?”

“Yeah” Tony smiled, and oh dear, he might even have been blushing “yeah, I’m good”

“I think you have some serious explaining to do” Shuri told him, but she was smiling too, by now.

 

*

 

Tony went to de-FRIDAY Shuri’s lab while Steve went to oversee the detention of the Dave’s.

 

He explained his plan to Shuri while the files uninstalled, and Shuri actually giggled at the specifically _Tony_ nature of it. The way it had been patched together from all those disparate skills and experiences, and entirely dependent on nailing the delivery. She’d been wondering how she was going to explain Tony Stark to anyone after he left – but this story summed him up well. Then Tony got to the last part.

 

“…kicked it’s head _off_?” She repeated, dumbfounded.

“I know, right?”

“…wow.” And she took a minute to consider that. “Well, at least you can say, if anyone messes with me, my boyfriend will their head off.”

“Hm” Tony murmured noncommittally, suddenly engrossed in the screen. He knew he should correct her, tell her that he’d just said that as a cover…

 

But he didn’t.

 

“There, all gone” He said, instead, showing her the monitor as proof. “At least for now.”

“For now?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have your own before too long” He told her, knowingly, and she nodded. She wasn’t sure how it all worked yet, but she was determined to figure it out – she even knew what she was going to call him.

 

Tony had been vaguely aware of someone approaching them as they talked, and thought nothing of it. The lab was teaming with experts and diplomats, coming and going and fussing in the background. It wasn’t until the figure stopped a few feet from them that Tony looked up and realised, it was Sam.

 

“Hey man.” He spoke softly, waiting to see if Tony wanted to talk to him.

“Hey.” Tony smiled “Everyone detained?”

“Yeah, they seemed happy to get in the cage, in the end” Sam breezed “T’Challa still wants to see if he can talk to them, but to be honest, no one seems to know what they’re going to do with them after that.” And Tony groaned, softly.

“Yeah, that sounds political.” He muttered, but not particularly bitterly. Sam left a little pause before he spoke again.

“I owe you an apology” Sam started simply.

“You do.” Tony conceded, as Shuri discreetly shuffled to the side and busied herself with something.

“I went with the wrong plan” Sam nodded. “And I was pretty quick to agree that we couldn’t tell you, and it turns out, I didn’t know that. I could have questioned things more, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I’m sorry for the part I played in what happened to you” And Tony smiled, and nodded, a simple acceptance of the apology.

 

“And I’m sorry for what I said to you on the raft” Sam went on, which Tony wasn’t expecting. “I said all that still thinking we were right, and we weren’t, so that’s on me. Just so you know, I don’t blame you for us ending up there. I don’t know if I _did_ , when I said it… but that was the risk I took, so, yeah, I’m sorry.” And as he was talking, Tony realised that he _wasn’t_ surprised that Sam was being this reasonable. He knew him at least well enough to know, this was how he spoke. He recognised that he might have bundled Sam in with the others, that he’d spread his anger among them indiscriminately, when really they had all done different things, for different reasons. A thought occurred to him.

 

“When did you figure that out?” Tony asked, in the tone of a genuine question. Because it was. It wasn’t an accusation, or a challenge, just something Tony wanted to know. Sam took it that way.

“Most of it, the day I found out what it had all been about” Sam admitted, and Tony believed him. Which meant it hadn’t involved an alien slab, or an empathic experience, or listening to Wanda have a breakdown.

“Thank you.” Tony said, genuinely. And Sam nodded, and probably would have left then, but Tony had to ask,

“This is just a question, but did you ever think of turning yourself in?” He saw Sam frown, and clarified “I’m only saying it so that you know it’s an option. Things are… we’re still working it all out, and things are a bit political, but I am still trying to get things so they’re fair. Cap is still a different thing… and Bucky… I’m working on that. I’ll get that… But, I just meant, you, if you wanted to, it’s probably more of an option. I managed to get Clint and Lang bumped down to two years house arrest… I’m just saying, so you know what your choices are.” Sam considered his response for a moment, and took a slow breath before he said.

“I still don’t think I can sign The Accords.” He sounded as though he regretted that, which isn’t the same as sounding sorry about it.  But Tony just smiled, kindly.

“Fair enough” he nodded, and when he saw the flicker of surprise on Sam’s face, he went on “The Accords were never what we fought over. Let’s be honest, if the whole thing had happened three years earlier, _someone_ would still have come after Bucky, Steve still would have protected him from them – it still would have ended up with us in that bunker, which was the whole point all along.” He shrugged. “We can disagree about that.”

“It’s not even…” Sam started, clearly wondering whether this was something he should just let rest. But no. “It’s not that I’m against regulation, it really isn’t. I don’t mind being held accountable for what I do. It’s just… I was there. When SHIELD….” He sighed “I just don’t think this is the right thing, right now. Maybe one day, but right now, I don’t trust many of the people putting it together. I don’t think they’re going for the right thing, yet.”

 

Tony understood that far better than he could have at the time. Maybe it was he’d lived with The Accords for six months. Maybe it was that he’d been forced by an alien artefact to see how those memories _felt_ to Steve. But still.

 

“…I have to tell you that I still believe in the principle, I still think the best course of action is to work on them and keep making them better” Tony felt he _had_ to start with that, because it was all still true. He did believe that a system like this was the best way of ensuring accountability, transparency – legal rights for them as well as everyone they affected. It had been a principle worth risking everything for, so he couldn’t abandon it now, not even to make this conversation more comfortable. But he also realised that he’d not said any of that at the time. And, if Sam was going to be straight with him, he’d be honest in return. “… But, they aren’t perfect. Actually, I know first-hand there are a _lot_ of issues with them that I wish I’d fixed before hand – which is the point I’m making, I guess. With hindsight… I was so desperate to commit to that idea, and so scared of having control taken away, and I should have insisted on more time. We should have talked about them more, asked more questions. We didn’t exactly have a productive debate on the issue.”

“No.” Sam conceded, with a sad smile.

“And, I’ll take _some_ of the blame for that.” He said, carefully. “There are definitely things I would have done differently, if I had my time again. Like I say, I don’t know it would have mattered… but still.” He shrugged.

“Thank you” Sam said, and that was it.

 

Tony realised; he quite liked Sam.

 

Shuri waited until Sam had left the lab, and sidled back over.

“And what are you going to do now?” She asked, and Tony winced. He hadn’t thought about his other life in _days_ – oh, God, there was going to be so much work piled up when he got back. Oh, and worse than that, work other people had done in his absence, that always meant even more work in the future. It was going to be an absolute cluster, from the moment he turned on his phone…

 

So, really, what difference did a day or two make at this stage?

 

“That depends – do you think I can talk your brother into telling Ross I’m indispensable until Friday?” He mused.

“I’m sure he can convince Ross that you’re needed here until New Year – on one condition.”

“Oh?”

“You let me fix your heart before you go” She told him, seriously. He rolled his eyes, but he smiled.

“You already did” He told her, only half joking.

“Aw.” She deadpanned, and then without missing a beat. “But, seriously, you should let me fix you heart. It would be a very minor surgery, and the work would be guaranteed for life.” He actually laughed.

“As a favour to you?”

“As a favour to me.” She agreed, readily. Well, how could he say no to that?

 

And, as tempting as it was to stay until New Year, Tony knew he couldn’t really stay beyond the end of the week. All the lives that relied on him, all the people that could be saved if it was him rather than someone else, all still mattered.

 

_You could have saved us… Why didn’t you do more?_

 

Well, all of his demons weren’t going to disappear in a day, were they? Not even on a really, really good day. But at least today he could think, _I did save us._

 

And he couldn’t do more. He could go back in a few days, and he could work seventy-hour weeks, and he could go for months without a break – but he _couldn’t_ do more than that.

 

“Okay, if it’ll stop you nagging me” He relented, as though it _really_ were a favour to her “ _But_ , as I can’t stay any longer than Friday, there’s something else you can do for me instead.”

“Oh yes?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

“A friend of mine. His name is Rhodey…”

 

*

 

Steve found Tony walking back along the West corridor. He hadn’t said a word. He’d just taken Tony’s hand, _shyly_ , and tugged gently, _come_.

 

And Tony knew that, even if this was a beginning, it was only a beginning. That there was still so much they had to work through, that there would still be scars from what they’d been through, that they each had their own issues to bring to this – whatever this was. But, feelings Steve’s fingers lace through his, seeing that blush colour his cheeks before he lowered his eyes, Tony allowed himself a moment to think about the other side of it. The other things that had always been true.

 

He did love Steve.

He loved that edge of endearing shyness, the way it jarred just slightly with the rest of him.

He loved the little details of Steve, the apparent contradictions, the bits his fans wouldn’t expect.

 

Those things were always true, as real as any of the difficult conversations they had to have at some point. This was their moment.

 

They slipped into Tony’s room for no other reason than it was nearer. Tony felt a flutter of nerves that he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager. He liked it. And then he looked up at Steve and realised, this was really it. After all those hurdles and tests and moments stolen in the middle of a crisis, Steve was finally all his.

 

He didn’t know what to say.

 

For one brief, blinding moment, Tony Stark was speechless. And it wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say; he didn’t know what to say first. Looking at the man he loved, the man he _wanted_ , the man he had so recently been hurt by and who had more recently done him proud, the man he thought he’d known so well and who he really did know so well, now. Which one to lead with?

 

But, luckily enough, this time Steve _did_ know what to say.

 

“I love you.” He told him, putting a hand on Tony’s hip and drawing him nearer. “And I am _so_ sorry, and I will never-” But Tony put a finger to Steve’s lips, to silence him.

“Before you say ‘never’.” He smiled, moving his hand and draping both arms around Steve’s waist. “I _know_ there’s a lot of that you really will never do again. But just so you know, you _will_ make some of those mistakes again. And I’m only saying this because I’ve done it. I’ve looked at my _whole_ life before and thought I’d screwed it all up, and it always ended with me swearing I was a reformed person, my eyes were opened, I was born anew…” He sighed, self depreciatingly “And _then_ , you do make a mistake, even a little one, and you feel like the whole thing is ruined… All I’m saying is, it’s okay not to know, it’s okay to be confused, it’s okay to get it wrong – and it’s okay if some habits take a little while to break. As long as you’re trying.” He felt Steve’s hands slide over his hips to the small of his back, Steve’s fingertips resting against his spine, and he very nearly forgot what he was saying “Just promise me, you’ll talk to me? You’ll always trust me enough to tell me what’s going on, with you, with anything. And if you can do that, I promise I won’t do anything to lose that trust. I mean, I can’t promise not to screw up in a whole host of other ways – but I promise you’ll never regret you spoke to me.”

“I promise” Steve whispered, and before Tony could give in completely, he remembered, there were some other things he had to say now.

 

“ _aaaaand…_ Maybe, _maybe_ , I wouldn’t have been this reasonable about everything if all of this hadn’t happened” He accepted. And then he sighed. “And I am _very_ sorry that I tried to kill Bucky.” Tony was still embarrassed by the very words.

“That wasn’t _you_ , I know that”

“I know you know that, because I think you were in about the same place by the end there” Tony thought back to Siberia, to Steve screaming desperately for Tony to stop. He saw it though new eyes now, knowing how Steve had been feeling. “But I’m still very sorry, and just… I don’t hate Bucky.” The little flicker of hope in Steve’s eyes was heart breaking.

 

Tony had gone to check on Bucky, just before he left Shuri’s lab. He hadn’t really expected to feel anything much. His hatred of the man had been abandoned months earlier, and he had far less reason to resent him now. Tony only went at all because he _had_ just wired an AI into the man’s life support system, and it seemed irresponsible not to check on him.

 

And then he’d actually seen him. His face looked so different, so much younger, when it was frozen into that serene expression. So much closer to the soldier in the war films than the assassin on that security tape. Maybe it was just that he’d felt what Steve felt, just for a moment. But looking at Bucky, Tony was astonished by how sorry he’d felt for him – and for Steve. He’d even thought, before he could stop himself.

 

_He was my friend_

 

And it had sounded so different, so much more poignant, when he was actually looking at him.

 

And now that he was watching Steve, so obviously relieved and maybe even grateful, Tony couldn’t remember if there were any other things he’d meant to say. Something about how much it had meant, that Steve had trusted him today, had known him well enough to know it wasn’t a spiteful test or him thinking Bucky was dispensable… That he’d known Tony well enough, even when it _did_ involve Bucky…

 

He could say it later.

 

Instead, he tilted his head up and kissed Steve softly, just once, and then let his forehead rest against Steve’s as he whispered

 

“I love you”

 

And as Steve kissed him back Tony did actually forget all about The Accords, and Bucky, and Germany and Siberia, just like that. Just for now it didn’t matter what happened next, what happened to the others, what happened to the alien ship still smouldering on the palace lawns or the aliens shrieking in the palace basement.

 

Because right now Steve was kissing him, and his lips were perfect, and his hands were _perfect_ , caressing their way slowly up Tony’s back. And God, Tony had _wanted_ this. There had been so many times when he’d wanted nothing more than this, nothing other than this – times, even before they’d resolved anything, when he’d just wanted to give up on everything and just _kiss_ him. Times when he’d found himself thinking _Oh, can’t we just_ …

 

And now he was. And it was every bit as cathartic, and consuming, and _good_ as he’d always wished it would be. There was no room for anything else, right now. Tony pulled him closer without knowing he’d done it, and Steve kissed him deeper, wrapping his arms around him tighter to gather Tony into his chest. All Tony wanted to do was _touch_ him, to be _closer_ , to have more. That’s all he was thinking.

 

When he was forced to break the kiss he was lightheaded. He managed a shaky breath, still pressed flush to Steve’s body, his eyes still locked on Steve’s. He was _beautiful._

“What can I do to make you happy, Tony?” He whispered.

 

Tony nearly said _say that again_.

 

But he couldn’t say anything for a second. He was too busy thinking of every spark he’d ever shared with Steve, every fantasy they had inspired. That _other_ thing between them, that they’d both denied or ignored because it hadn’t fit. He thought of every time he’d argued with Steve, and wanted to shut him up by kissing him. Every time he’d watched Steve blush and thought about all the things he could have shown him, or every fantasy he’d had about Steve being completely different behind closed doors. Every time he’d loved Steve so much he couldn’t think of what to do to him, for him, that would have been enough to express it.

 

All those moments when he had told himself _that_ hadn’t mattered, wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things. And now he couldn’t _believe_ there was anything more important than having Steve right now. He couldn’t remember there being anything else.

 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Tony asked, automatically, his fingertips digging more firmly into Steve’s skin. He watched a little flash of need in Steve’s eyes, a little hesitation in his heavy breathing, and Tony thought _that. I want  that_. 

 

“I want _you_ ” Steve breathed, in a tone that Tony could _feel_ like a sudden heat under his skin. “I want… I want to take you to bed now, and I want to make you safe, and happy, and I want to tell you every wonderful thing you don’t think I noticed about you, and every amazing thing you don’t even know yourself… I want to fuck you” Steve made himself say the word, and any shyness he’d felt about it evaporated as he watched Tony part his lips.

 

“Whatever makes you happy” Tony managed, before he kissed him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If anyone has any idea how I should rate this, input is welcome. It seems a bit tame for mature, but I dunno...
> 
> Also, not that I have a lot of CA:CW issues to work through... but I am vaguely thinking of writing a sequel to this... So if anyone has any ideas about if/what they'd like to see in it, I'm always so grateful for advice.


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